… things got done the really hard way.
Think legibility, think ease of transition, think “move anyplace.”
Think, maybe it doesn’t need a lot of new bell and whistles.
ps
Of course not Master Philip: What ever for? 
We’ve enough bells-n-whistles elsewhere as it youtube.com/watch?v=ParbOtTJ7mc
Fluff
The downside is that scrawling notes across the bedroom wall like Faulkner will go out of style.
Yes, but those of us who write long, convoluted passages of prose, phrases longer than paragraphs, sentences longer than pages, and paragraphs longer than novellas, will always need what in another setting might have been called “elbow room” but in this instance might more appropriately be called “gantry room,” we can hardly be confined to so small, so inadequate, so infuriatingly confined a space as, to take the current example, the wall of a modest-sized room, or to even to a second and third wall, so vast and intertwined and rambling our narrative, so complex our ratiocination, so extensive our story arcs that, were it possible and we granted the power, the vasty skies above could scarcely contain or confine — for it is in confinement that we meet our doom, our desecration, our denouement — and yes, you may charge me with excessive emoting and more-than-truly-requisite alliteration but by the heavens where, you will recall, I have been hoping to scribe my tirade, all that is more than nice, more than needed, more than necessary, it is that for which. . .
. . . what was the question?
ps
I’m almost certain, young Master Philip, that the answer would be of the order, “You’re dead right there Master Philip.”
Fluff