At my first Unwritten evening class, the instructor asked a question I could have answered through an assistant before sitting down. I stayed in my seat.
I tried to describe a colour without naming another colour. My first sentence named one. The instructor gave no correction. For a moment, I thought I had paid for a service that had failed.
I looked at the sentence again. There was still work for me to do.
I thought about the people Longhand pays to write new text, and A Small Problem’s puzzles, which come with the answer sealed in an envelope. Both made more sense after the class.
I have an opinion about them now, although I cannot yet defend all of it.