As I approach the end of my first proofing pass through a horribly written book, I am struck by what a struggle it must have been for this poor schnook of an author to complete the book.
He reached down deep and employed redundancy and wordiness almost at will to reach the finish line.
And I almost wish I had been there to cheer him on. Almost.
After all these years, could I be mellowing? I hope not—too much empathy will destroy the gatekeeper.