I wrote on the computer screen, but my dominant hemisphere was in charge, my right hand steering the topic. I could trust myself not to do anything wild. For four years in the 1980s, I wrote a film column for the Spectator. Eight hundred words were requested, and though from time to time I turned in 799, I was seldom expansive to the tune of 801. After a while I didn’t even have to use a word count function. All my views—on anything—fitted into 800 words. “Should we be in Iraq?” Eight hundred words. “Is it cold out?” Eight hundred words.

Hilary Mantel, A Memoir of My Former Self-…, loc. 12