By The Bret M.W.
The words spewed from the judge, the prosecutor, the defense. They were the same words used yesterday, the day before, the month, year, the decades that had passed.
Her fingers tapped, voraciously eating and dispensing the sounds into the stenotype at 270 words per minute.
The day’s first beep from the bench’s wristwatch sounded—the sound she had decided would be her mark. A smile curled along her face. Both the characters met and knowledge gained in the bowels of the judicial system were on her mind.
At her speed she would easily be able to write that novel before lunch.
Such a unique way to write The Great American Novel.
Argh! I see where I went wrong. I spent 25 years working in a university payroll and benefits office. Good story concept, The Bret M. W.
A story about writing a story. What’s not to love? Good stuff.