A note on making

I used whatever tools were suitable at the time. I cut and pasted between them. The book is mine. The help was real. Beyond that the particular tools do not matter and will have changed by the time you read this.

In this book more of the first-draft words came from the machine than from me. I do not know the percentage and anyone who claims one is guessing. What I can tell you is that I held the intention, I carried every paragraph across the membrane, I rewrote many, I rejected more, and every architectural decision was mine. The words that survived are mine, whether I typed them or not — in the way a house belongs to the architect whether or not they laid the brick.

I read the book back this morning and recognised the thinking but not always the words. A reader may feel the seams. I felt them too, reading it back. They are part of what the book is.

If This Road was the wake — ifthisroad.com. orphans.ai is the diagnosis — orphans.ai. theheld.ai is the disposition — theheld.ai. Three books. One argument. Made in the way the argument is about.