Writing is a human act.
Not because machines can't arrange words — they can, endlessly, effortlessly — but because the arrangement isn't the point. The point is the struggle. The moment when the cursor blinks and you don't know what comes next. The sentence you delete. The one you keep. The surprise of your own mind meeting the page.
That's not a bug to be optimized away. That's the craft.
We believe constraints create freedom.
A blank page with infinite possibilities is paralyzing. A page with boundaries — a place, a time, a stranger, a secret — is an invitation. Limitation is where creativity begins. Every sonnet knows this. Every haiku. Every story written against the clock.
Proza gives you walls so you can push against them.
We believe in verification, not validation.
The world is flooding with words that cost nothing to produce. Soon, the question won't be “is this good?” but “is this real?” Publishers will ask. Readers will ask. You'll want an answer.
Every story you complete here is timestamped, session-locked, and verified. Your work builds a record — proof that a human sat down, struggled, and made something.
We're not against AI.
We're for something older: the difficult, quiet, deeply human work of turning thought into language, one word at a time. If you want a machine to write for you, there are plenty of places to go.
This isn't one of them.
Proza is for writers who write.
Welcome.