The following morning, Alice sheepishly pushes open the glass doors leading to the office of the San Francisco writers Guild. This felt a lot like the day at the Grand Hyatt. At the reception desk, a middle-ages women with a punctilious look of a librarian look up at her. May I help you?”
Alice took in a deep breath. “I need to find. Manuscript. It was written quite a while ago.”
The word copyright had st her off. She had written shot stories in collage. They were barely good enough to get into the school’s literary journal, but her mother had insisted, get them copyrighted. When she investigated, it turn out it took months and was way too costly. But her friend who had published told her about another way she could register documents locally. He told her, all the writers so do? If Richa
