I’m the author of A Madness Descending.

You know it. It’s the book they based the Oscar winning Maddness on? The book on just about every bestseller list for months? The book you’ve probably read twice?

Yes. That was me. But you’ll never know who I am, and I’ll likely never write again. They’re winning. In their efforts to stifle creativity and original thinking I bet they never thought B.L.A.N.K. would work so well. Better living through Anonymity? Please. But it’s true, creatives cannot bare to go unknown. We sustain ourselves on praise and criticism. They’re like intellectual calories.

Sure, I know they’re talking about me when they talk about my books, but it doesn’t mean as much when they don’t know. I long, as does anyone worth their salt, for the days when Oscars went to people, not titles. When you could walk into a Barnes & Noble and see an author’s name on the spine of a book. Hell, I even miss the blogs.

It might be worth the jail time to… nah, no one would believe me anyway.

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