Once Upon A Time…

… There were two boys, named Nivek and Sirhc, neither of whom initially knew the other. They both enjoyed writing. They both enjoyed talking with others about writing. They both enjoyed improving their own writing, and they both enjoyed helping others improve their writing. They may not have been professionals, they may not have been trained, and they may not have studied for decades. But they both considered themselves to be writers. As did others.

In the Kingdom was a Guild of Writers of some stature. It was famous and well-regarded, and it often worked with other guilds throughout the lands. The Guild’s stated goal was to help improve people without training or education or occupations as writers in order to improve themselves. Their goal was, as stated, a noble goal, and they had much support.

Toward this goal, the Guild, also known as Papyrussy, held regular writing contests. It announced these contests weekly, for several years, and accepted entries from all over. For a minor administrative fee, of course. Those parchments don’t print themselves, after all.

So our heroes, Nivek and Sirhc, participated in these contests on a regular basis. After all, Papyrussy, a famous and well-regarded guild, ran these contests. In order to help people learn to write. People like Nivek and Sirhc, not to mention hundreds and thousands of others.

Each contest was judged by members of the Guild. Not just its employees, but also members who wrote and competed in the Guild’s contests. Certainly, thought Sirhc, the judging of these contests would be fair. The judges would know what they’re doing. The judging would be blind, without anyone knowing who wrote the stories. The judging would be random, with stories assigned to the judges in ways that they had no control over what was put before them. And certainly there would be specific standards that must be maintained: that those doing the judging would use specific rubrics designed to make sure that all stories were rated equally and fairly, regardless of who wrote it and who judged it. And it was for those noble reasons that Sirhc sought to become a judge. And, lo and behold, he was so chosen!

So Sirhc reported to the Guild for his sacred duties as an arbiter of what was skillful and what wasn’t. And the first thing he noticed was just how many judges there were. “What’s this? There are more judges than submissions, and there is really no rhyme nor reason as to how those judges are chosen or what makes them qualified, and they can even judge contests for which they are judging! How is this fair?”

The next thing he noticed was the authors’ names attached to the submissions. “What’s this? This lets me know who wrote these stories! How is this fair?”

And the next thing he noticed was how the judges were “chosen” to judge those stories—or, rather, how the stories were chosen by the judges. For that was how it was: the judges decided which stories they were going to grade. “What’s this? This lets me choose whose stories I will judge! How is this fair?”

And then the next thing he noticed was how the judges themselves judged those stories. One judge standing next to him picked up the stories she chose to judge and immediately put them in the ‘Meh’ bag as opposed to the ‘Great!’ bag or the ‘Never’ bag. “What’s this? This lets me choose how I wish to judge these stories without any guidelines at all! How is this fair?”

So Sirhc went to the Great Guildmasters of Papyrussy. “Oh, mighty lords and ladies! Any other contest in the whole wide world would require that the judges cannot participate or judge their own work. That the judging would be blind, without knowing who submitted what. That the judging would be random, without knowing who would judge what. That there would be a rubric to use, so that all contestants would be judged on the same basis. How is this fair?”

And the Guildmasters conferred. And then they turned to Sirhc and said, “Well, yes, in an ideal world, this would happen. But it’s not an ideal world. So… sorry.”

And so Sirhc became disillusioned. And he (mostly) left the Guild, and struck out into the world.

“But what about Nivek?” you ask.

Ah, yes, Nivek. Our other young hero, who was out there writing stories, improving and helping others, and in general making the world a better place. Certainly he had a better outcome.

However.

One evening, Nivek had a bird show up at his door. There was a message attached to the bird’s foot: ‘We need to talk!’

So Nivek attached a message to the bird’s foot: ‘Any time.’ And he sent the bird into the sky to deliver the response.

And a couple of nights later, there was a knock. It was a cloaked figure, but Nivek recognized them almost immediately: it was a representative from one of the other guilds that would work with Papyrussy. In fact, it was someone who had only a month or so before been named as Top Judge of one of these weekly contests.

“Nivek,” the cloaked figure said. “I wanted to let you know how good your writing was.”

“Well, thanks,” responded Nivek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did, actually, because if it was my choice, you would have gotten a medal.”

Nivek blinked. “But you were Top Judge, were you not? You gave medals to three stories. You even said the winner was “well-written and well-conceived” and that it “managed to paint a compelling picture in such a short story.”

The cloaked figure scowled from within the shadows. “You think I said that drivel? Do you not notice on the broadsheets that they send out to announce these awards that Top Judges who are invited to collaborate are actually quoted in emphasized statements about how they felt about each winner?”

Nivek considered and nodded. “Yes, you’re right. And for yours, they only paraphrased you.”

The figure nodded. “Yes, Nivek. Because I chose yours to be one of the medallists. And Papyrussy refused to accept that and demanded that I change my mind. And when I did not, they made the decision themselves, and spread lies about what was said.”

Nivek frowned. “Whyever would they do that?”

The figure shrugged. “Only the Guildmasters of Papyrussy know. But I’m done with them. And you should be as well.”

And so Nivek became disillusioned, And he (mostly) left the Guild, and struck out into the world.

“But if they both left and struck out into the world, then how are their tales told now?” you ask.

Ah. Except Nivek and Sirhc weren’t the only storytellers who discovered these dark secrets about Papyrussy. There were others, many others. And in time, some of them found each other being taken care of by a Waitress of Eris, where they could compare notes, and help each other out, make themselves and each other better writers.

Among them was St Judy of Tras, the matron of bawdy old ladies. And she blessed the site. And it was good, and all enjoyed of it. And it was known throughout the kingdom as Aqua Granite Bards.

Or something along those lines.

“But what about Papyrussy? Certainly they got what was coming to them?” you ask.

Sadly, dear children, I cannot tell you that. And I must be honest: their goals are good and noble. If they want to help people become better writers, that’s a good thing. And if they want to choose the best stories for their contests, then that is a good thing.

But along the way, like all things Human, it has become corrupted. "The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions." And it is very easy for those who are treated well by the Guild to think that those who noticed the dark secrets are simply making bitter wine with sour grapes.

Perhaps one day it can be saved. Perhaps one day it will be sanctified. Perhaps one day, with prayers to St. Judy of Tras, the Guild of Writers known as Papyrussy can return to the golden high road it once mapped out.

But it starts with each and every one of us holding them to account.

Good night, children. And sweet dreams.