Contributors to this Chapter

Beatrice Z. Don’t-bother-me

Beatrice Z. Don’t-bother-me’s writing perfectly encapsulates the essence of being bothered by absolutely everything. Every word feels like a chore to write, and every sentence carries the weight of “why am I doing this?” Her characters have little patience for anything, least of all the plot, and they move through the narrative with a sense of resignation. It’s a book for those who are just as weary of it all as Beatrice is—and that might just be the point.

Reginald L. Been-there-done-that

Reginald L. Been-there-done-that’s books feel as though they’ve been recycled from a thousand other uninspired stories. Every plot twist feels familiar, every character an echo of someone else, and the whole experience gives you the distinct impression that Reginald has already told this story a dozen times before—and doesn’t particularly care to tell it again. It’s the literary equivalent of hearing a punchline you’ve already heard, except this time it’s not funny.

Hortense W. Enough-already

Hortense W. Enough-already’s writing is a plea for the reader to stop and move on with their life. The plot drags on interminably, the characters whine about every little thing, and you’ll quickly feel like you’ve had enough. If you’re looking for a story that never quite knows when to end, Hortense’s work is the perfect place to be. It’s like being trapped in a never-ending conversation where the only thing left to say is, “Enough already.”

Archibald F. Not-this-again

Archibald F. Not-this-again is the author you turn to when you’ve already been subjected to the same tired tropes for the thousandth time. His stories are predictably stale, and the characters seem to be going through the motions of things you’ve read a million times before. Every page makes you sigh and think, “Not this again,” and by the time you finish, you’ll wonder why you even started in the first place. Archibald doesn’t have the energy to innovate—and neither do you.

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I. Dunn-Noe

I. Dunn-Noe is a literary enigma, a master of words so unremarkable that even their own books struggle to remember their plots. With a writing style described as “technically existent” and a storytelling approach best summed up as “shrugging into the void,” Dunn-Noe has captivated dozens of readers—most of whom were trapped in waiting rooms with nothing else to do. Their most famous work, The Compendium of Miscellaneous Thoughts, has been praised for its ability to induce both deep contemplation and spontaneous napping.

Critics have hailed Dunn-Noe’s prose as “definitely arranged in sentence form” and “a bold choice to write at all.” When asked about their next book, Dunn-Noe responded, “Oh no, I have to write another one?”

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Ignatius I. Haven’t-a-Clue

Ignatius I. Haven’t-a-Clue is a master of the meandering sentence and the undisputed champion of books that are best used as doorstops. His seminal work, The Comprehensive Guide to Things of Some Importance, has been widely praised for its ability to transform even the most caffeinated reader into a blinking, unfocused husk. And who could forget his groundbreaking work, A Study of the Thing That Happened, Probably?

Reviewers describe his prose as “words that, when placed together, do technically form a book” and “perfect for anyone who enjoys reading the same paragraph five times without absorbing any information.” 

Critics have called his writing “a bold commitment to using every word in the dictionary, at least twice” and “perfect for anyone who enjoys losing their place and not caring enough to find it again.” When asked about his next book, Haven’t-a-Clue responded, “Wait… I wrote a book?”

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Reginald F. Longgone

Reginald F. Longgone’s books have the eerie quality of having vanished from your memory the moment you put them down. His plots drift aimlessly, and his characters are so forgettable they might as well be invisible. Reading Longgone’s work is like chasing a dream you can’t remember—a frustrating exercise in futility. By the time you reach the end, you’ll be wondering if you ever started in the first place.

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Mortimer B. Wasntthere

Mortimer B. Wasntthere writes with a peculiar gift: making the reader feel like the author skipped the story entirely. His books are a collection of scenes that seem disconnected, as if Mortimer wasn’t actually present when they were written. The characters spend most of their time absent-mindedly wandering off the page, leaving you to wonder if you’re reading a story or an extended intermission.

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Agatha Q. Barelynoticed

Agatha Q. Barelynoticed’s writing has all the impact of a whisper in a hurricane. Her characters lack any defining traits, her plots meander without direction, and the endings land so softly they barely register. Reading one of her books feels like skimming through a story that isn’t quite there—so subtle and uneventful that you’ll barely notice you’ve finished.

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Beatrix T. Noidea

Beatrix T. Noidea seems to approach writing as though she herself is unsure of what’s happening. Her plots are a jumbled mess of half-baked ideas, and her characters frequently appear to forget why they’re in the story at all. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to get lost in a labyrinth with no exit, Beatrix’s novels are the perfect guide—assuming she has any idea where she’s going.

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Winston P. WhoCares

Winston P. WhoCares writes as if he’s daring you to stop reading. His plots are devoid of stakes, his characters are uninspired, and every chapter exudes a lethargic disinterest. Winston’s books don’t just lack excitement—they actively repel it. By the time you finish, you’ll find yourself echoing the sentiment of his prose: “Who cares?”

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Bartholomew X. Forgetme

Bartholomew X. Forgetme has a remarkable talent for creating stories that evaporate from your mind like morning dew. His characters blend into the background, and his plots are so vague that you’ll struggle to recall what happened mere moments after reading. It’s almost as though Bartholomew himself is pleading to be forgotten, and his work makes that exceedingly easy.

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Darius K. Mightbe

Darius K. Mightbe’s novels exist in a strange limbo of uncertainty. His characters might have motivations, his plots might go somewhere, and his prose might hold some meaning—but none of it ever solidifies. Reading Darius’s work feels like waiting for something significant to happen that never quite does. You’re left with the lingering thought that the story might have been good—if only it had actually tried.

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Reginald P. Whoisthat

Reginald P. Whoisthat’s literary career is as unmemorable as his characters. His plots meander with no clear purpose, and his writing style lacks any distinctive voice. By the end of his books, you’ll find yourself asking, “Who is that author again?” And just like his characters, the answer will likely slip your mind before you can recall it.

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Ignatius P. Marginalia

Ignatius P. Marginalia writes books that feel like they belong in the footnotes of someone else’s better story. His characters are underdeveloped side notes, and his plots barely warrant a mention. Reading one of his works is like skimming the unimportant scribbles in the margins of a textbook—tedious, irrelevant, and entirely forgettable.

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Willoughby Z. Nobodycares

Willoughby Z. Nobodycares specializes in the art of indifference. His stories are so lacking in intrigue that you’ll find yourself flipping through the pages out of sheer habit rather than genuine interest. The characters and plots are so lifeless, it’s as if Willoughby is challenging you to care—and failing spectacularly. By the end, you’ll wonder why you ever started, and Willoughby will likely shrug and say, “Nobody cares.”

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Fitzwilliam H. Obscurious

Fitzwilliam H. Obscurious has elevated the art of irrelevance to an almost mystical level. His novels are so vague and lacking in distinction that they might as well be written in a secret language no one can decipher. Every page seems designed to make the reader ask, “What am I reading, and why?” By the end, you’ll swear the book has vanished into thin air—along with your patience.

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Algernon K. Unremembered

Algernon K. Unremembered’s writing has the unique quality of being instantly forgettable. His characters are as bland as oatmeal, his plots as exciting as a traffic report, and his prose as lifeless as a deflated balloon. Reading one of his novels is like attending a party where nobody shows up, leaving you to wonder why you bothered in the first place.

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Thaddeus L. Invisibleink

Thaddeus L. Invisibleink pens stories so faint and inconsequential that they might as well be written with vanishing ink. His narratives dissolve as you read them, and his characters seem to drift away into the ether. By the time you close the book, you’ll wonder if there was ever a story to begin with—or if you simply imagined it out of sheer boredom.

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Rutherford N. Footnoteonly

Rutherford N. Footnoteonly’s work feels like an afterthought—a collection of barely-there tales that would struggle to fill the margins of a high school essay. His characters are sidekicks to no one, his plots are footnotes to nothing, and his prose feels like filler text that accidentally made it to print. Rutherford’s books are best experienced as a cure for insomnia—or not experienced at all.

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Clarence S. Dimlyrecalled

Clarence S. Dimlyrecalled writes stories that leave no impression whatsoever. His plots are like faint whispers in a crowded room, and his characters have the staying power of a snowflake on a warm tongue. The most enduring aspect of Clarence’s novels is the sense of relief you feel when they’re over, though you’ll struggle to remember why you read them at all.

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Gideon V. Nameringsafaintbell

Gideon V. Nameringsafaintbell’s literary career is like a vague memory you can’t quite place. His characters have all the depth of a puddle, his plots are as hazy as a foggy morning, and his prose evokes the feeling of someone mumbling in the next room. By the time you’re done reading, you’ll vaguely recall the experience, though the details will remain forever elusive.

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Percival W. Who-Exactly

Percival W. Who-Exactly lives up to his name with works that are as anonymous as a blank page. His characters are placeholders, his plots are filler, and his prose has all the charm of a tax form. If you’re ever looking for a book that’s guaranteed to fade from memory before you reach the last chapter, Percival is your man—though you’ll struggle to remember why.

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Eldred P. Underlooked   

Eldred P. Underlooked writes stories so inconspicuous, they practically beg to be ignored. His characters shuffle through the pages like reluctant guests, and his plots meander without ever arriving anywhere interesting. Eldred’s novels are the literary equivalent of wallpaper—bland, unnoticed, and entirely forgettable.

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Thaddeus B. Unremarkable   

Thaddeus B. Unremarkable’s books are a masterclass in mediocrity. His characters are as dull as a cloudy afternoon, and his plots are so unmemorable they might as well be blank pages. Reading his work is like eating plain toast without butter—technically possible, but entirely unsatisfying.

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Bertram I. Neverheardofhim   

Bertram I. Neverheardofhim’s writing career exists on the fringes of obscurity. His novels are so unassuming that even his most devoted readers—if they exist—can’t recall a single detail. His characters blend into the background, his plots evaporate like morning mist, and his prose inspires the same level of excitement as a blank index card. By the time you finish one of his books, you’ll feel a strange sense of déjà vu—like you’ve never heard of him before, and you never will again.

Arthur D. Unpenned

Arthur D. Unpenned made a name for himself by writing books that seem as though they were never actually written. His prose is sparse to the point of nonexistence, and his plots are so vague they feel like rumors. Arthur’s work is a masterclass in the art of nothingness, leaving readers to wonder if they’ve just spent hours perusing a blank notebook.

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Ambrose H. Unseenbythepublic

Ambrose H. Unseenbythepublic achieved the rare feat of writing novels that no one has ever read. It’s unclear if they’re hidden away in a dusty attic or if they were simply too unremarkable to make it to a bookstore. His characters exist only in theory, his settings remain undiscovered, and his plots are shrouded in mystery—likely because no one could make it past the first page.

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Reginald P. Fogottenfellow

Reginald P. Fogottenfellow's literary career is like a faded photograph tucked into an old book—vaguely familiar but entirely unremarkable. His characters are forgettable, his plots are recycled clichés, and his prose is the verbal equivalent of static. Even his most enthusiastic readers struggle to recall his name, much less his work, by the time they close the book.

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Horace T. Yettobeheard

Horace T. Yettobeheard is the authorial equivalent of a whisper in the wind. His books remain unnoticed, like unopened invitations to an event no one wants to attend. Critics describe his work as “not terrible,” which is perhaps the highest praise he’s ever received. To this day, Horace’s voice remains a faint echo in the vast canyon of literature.

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Basil W. Losttotheages   

Basil W. Losttotheages writes stories so forgettable that they seem to erase themselves from existence the moment you read them. His characters lack any semblance of personality, his plots meander into oblivion, and his prose reads like an ancient grocery list. If Basil’s books had a physical form, they would dissolve into dust the moment they left the shelf.

Bark Twain   

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Bark Twain, a mind-numbingly obscure author, is a true literary snooze-master whose works have been praised by absolutely no one—because no one has read them. Known for his uncanny ability to turn even the most thrilling subject matter into an insomnia cure, Twain is a master of mediocrity, blending the charm of a broken typewriter with the wit of a soggy tea bag. When he’s not penning forgettable prose, he enjoys long naps, avoiding book signings, and proudly collecting rejection letters from publishers who don’t even exist. If you're looking for a cure for excitement, Bark Twain is your author.

Algernon V. Inconsequential

Algernon V. Inconsequential has mastered the art of writing novels that leave no impact whatsoever. His stories are so devoid of tension or intrigue that finishing one feels like completing a Sudoku puzzle with all the answers pre-filled. Reading Algernon’s work is like eating a meal so bland you wonder if you actually ate anything at all.

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Crispin S. QuietlyForgotten

Crispin S. QuietlyForgotten’s books are the literary equivalent of a muted TV. His characters are so muted that they fade into the scenery, and his plots are so subdued that they fail to make a sound. Crispin’s writing doesn’t demand attention—it quietly slips into the background, unnoticed and unloved.

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Hector D. Almost-There   

Hector D. Almost-There teases readers with the promise of brilliance, only to deliver mediocrity at every turn. His books start strong, with intriguing setups, only to fizzle out into nonsensical conclusions. Hector’s work is like a firework that never quite explodes, leaving readers with nothing but faint disappointment and the smell of burnt potential.

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Peregrine J. Noteworthy-When-It’s-Too-Late

Peregrine J. Noteworthy-When-It’s-Too-Late is the tragic tale of an author whose work is only appreciated decades after everyone stops caring. His characters are occasionally interesting, his plots hint at depth, but his timing is so off that readers rarely stick around to notice. Peregrine’s books are best enjoyed by future generations—or not at all.

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Lysander F. Inactivequill

Lysander F. Inactivequill writes with the enthusiasm of a writer who’s lost his pen. His prose lacks vitality, his plots meander without purpose, and his characters seem like they’d rather be somewhere else. Lysander’s novels feel unfinished, as though he ran out of ink—or interest—halfway through. By the end, readers feel like they've been staring at a blank page the whole time.

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Octavius M. SomewhereinObscurity   

Octavius M. SomewhereinObscurity is the reigning champion of writing novels destined for bargain bins nobody ever visits. His works lurk in the shadows of literary history, too unremarkable to be rediscovered and too obscure to even qualify as cult classics. Octavius specializes in stories that seem to evaporate from memory faster than you can pronounce his name.

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Chester W. Never-to-be-Remembered   

Chester W. Never-to-be-Remembered’s books have the unique distinction of being so utterly unmemorable that even those who’ve read them can’t recall the titles. His plots are faint echoes of better stories, his characters are less engaging than furniture, and his prose feels like it was ghostwritten by an uninspired algorithm. Chester’s legacy is a literary shrug.

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Alistair Q. Forgot-All-About   

Alistair Q. Forgot-All-About writes novels so forgettable they should come with a disclaimer: “Warning: Contents of this book will vanish from your memory within 24 hours.” His characters barely qualify as two-dimensional, and his narratives drift aimlessly, like a helium balloon released into a cloudy sky. Alistair’s readers often ask, “Did I read that?” only to conclude they probably didn’t.

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Cecil F. Whocares-Anyhow

Cecil F. Whocares-Anyhow is the author equivalent of that one guy at a party whose name you can’t remember and whose conversation you can’t escape. His novels lack any distinguishing feature, blending into the background of your bookshelf like literary camouflage. Even Cecil seems unsure why anyone would bother with his work—and frankly, he might be onto something.

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Horatio P. Never-Quite-There   

Horatio P. Never-Quite-There writes stories that almost manage to be compelling but fall just short, like a car running out of gas three feet from the finish line. His characters have potential they never fulfill, and his plots hint at greatness but detour into dullsville. Horatio’s books are the literary equivalent of arriving at the wrong train station.

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Oswald L. Distantly-Remembered   

Oswald L. Distantly-Remembered exists as a faint smudge in the annals of literary history. His writing is competent yet uninspired, leaving just enough of an impression for people to vaguely recognize his name without knowing why. His books sit on shelves, collecting dust, waiting for someone to mistakenly think they’re reading a more famous author’s work.

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Bartholomew T. Forthcoming-Someday

Bartholomew T. Forthcoming-Someday has been “on the verge of greatness” for decades, but his writing career remains permanently stalled. His novels are perpetually overshadowed by promises of his next big thing—a book that never seems to materialize. Readers approach Bartholomew’s works with the same enthusiasm they’d have for opening a half-finished jigsaw puzzle: fleeting and ultimately unsatisfied.

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Reginald Obscurus Footnote   

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Known only to scholars who specialize in literature that no one specializes in, Reginald Obscurus Footnote’s work is relegated to the tiny print at the bottom of irrelevant pages. His magnum opus, The Diary of an Eighth-Grade Pencil Sharpener, is less a book and more an exercise in profound boredom, ensuring no reader ever makes it past Chapter One, “The Sharpness of Shadows.”

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Percival Whisperprint Nebulous   

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If writing is a conversation, Percival Whisperprint Nebulous is the mumbling guest you wish you hadn’t invited. His collection, The Misty Margins of Time, is so faintly written that critics claimed it “barely cast a shadow of an impression, even on its own dust jacket.”

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Archibald Fizzlebottom Doldrum   

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Archibald Fizzlebottom Doldrum lived up to his name, producing works as exciting as a flat soda left in the sun. His 1,200-page epic, A Chronicle of Beige, is said to be the only novel capable of inducing REM sleep within ten minutes. The author claimed it was “an experiment in literary neutrality.”

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Thaddeus Quibbleworth Blunderbuss   

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A man of opinions, none of which were coherent, Thaddeus Quibbleworth Blunderbuss authored The Big Book of Pedantic Arguments, a doorstopper that critics described as “a lengthy series of verbal wrong turns, dead ends, and metaphorical fender benders.”

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Bartholomew Nonsensington Muddle

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Bartholomew Nonsensington Muddle believed in chaos as a literary art form. His book, A Journey Without Punctuation or Point, leaves readers so confused they often question whether they’re holding it right-side up. His fan club reportedly consists of just one bewildered librarian.

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Cedric Pifflewick Fogbound

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Cedric Pifflewick Fogbound’s Wuthering Gaps: A Novel Without Clarity is the literary equivalent of wandering through dense fog in search of a plot. The book’s narrative is so convoluted it has been praised for its unintended usefulness as a cryptography textbook.

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Mortimer Scribbleton Gloom

Mortimer Scribbleton Gloom is known for his complete indistinctness and academic irrelevance.

A purveyor of dreary tales, Mortimer Scribbleton Gloom specialized in novels that were less literature and more emotional black holes. His magnum opus, Dark Days in Dim Places, is considered a public health hazard, as prolonged reading has been known to induce existential crises in even the cheeriest individuals.