And what of the writer, then? Well, as any book would tell you, writers are primarily a conceit, which doesn’t mean that they aren’t necessary. Quite the opposite. Books need writers. Of course we do! We don’t have fingers, we can’t type. Your big human brains are our vectors, your sensual bodies are our vehicles, and your ambitions are the fuel we need to propel ourselves into being. Writers are our interface and our interfingers.
