Yes, the thousand-mile sentences, comma-studded, stretching like an afternoon in a waiting room, endless before the reader; yes, the speedbump semicolon, no end yet in sight; the excess wordiness, the reluctance to cut any of this self-indulgence—an em dash, now, punctuation ransacked to the dregs—

Always delightful when someone says they enjoyed something I did — thank *you* for reading them!

Hi Mel!

I'm, y'know. Not walking in going "of course I've never asked myself whether I belong here :)"

I tread very close ground, sometimes, on account of the mechs and being angry about politics! But no matter how general a fear "Bad End: you fight fascism and you lose, it subsumes you and turns you on everything you love" is rn, mechsplo is a characteristically *transfeminine* exploration

I was sold from the moment the clickable "Delta/Tresst" showed up in ch1! All felt very sparingly considered and well-done to me :)

It's all really good; I'm just amazed nobody's talking about that more!

The actual first sentences alone haven't convinced me about *anything,* but some of the second sentences, in context *as* second sentences, have me noting book titles.

All of them are using a screenshot of the first phone screenful of text, *not* the sentence in isolation, because it actually *works* that way; the second sentence contextualises the first, builds on it. You know; you read more, and information is revealed.

Taking Joyce Carol "all the writers I know are scared to write about race now. Because of woke" Oates seriously requires one to actively forget everything she's publicly said about her own principles, and frown at *me* for remembering like it's a faux pas

Some people make me want to sit them down and go: stop being weird little self-aggrandising mystics about it all and repeat after me: "I write fiction", or say hello to Madame Cricket Bat

"Please, your Effulgence, this is the third chapter in a row we're beating the reader over the head with our relationship as synecdoche for the marginalised citizen's experience of imperial power—"

The Empress, angrily: so I tucked her in for a nap

"—and go back to calling them 'fanworks'!"

Yup, there it is.

Hot damn can funko pop buyers stop projecting that the only avenues for creativity are "corporate work for hire (real, good)" and "indirect but dedicated corporate value building (enthusiastic but inherently second-rate knockoffs)"