Advertised it looked an interesting job: Writer requires an intelligent typist.
Opening line, The Words She Types, Michael Wilding, 1975
A few years ago I was staying in an apartment with bookshelves full of books. With only three days to read, I selected The Penguin Best Australian Short Stories and flicked through it, reading first paragraphs. Michael Wilding’s story ‘The Words She Types’ captured my attention from the start, from the opening line.
And from the second line I was completely into it. As someone who has been typing for forty-odd years, I saw myself in this woman’s shoes:
It sounded more interesting than routine copy-typing; and the ‘intelligent’ held out the bait of some involvement.
She is accepted for the job of typing up the handwritten manuscript pages of a writer, but over time his pages contain fewer and fewer words and she is expected to fill in and expand, and even to interpret blank pages. She knows he will publish the story, but will he claim the words are his and hers, or his, or hers?
Michael Wilding, by the way, is a much published author. No doubt, all the words in his books are his.