If I could write fiction, I would start a story or novella this way:
I get paid to read. Not much. The worse the writing, the more I'm paid. Sometimes I am paid to write, but this is just to generate work for the other paid readers. The weird thing is that after I've read and been paid, I'm told that "well, that's just your opinion." And I think, "yes, that's what you paid me for."
There are not very many of us paid readers now. The big money is in images. And sounds. The even bigger money is in calculated gambles.
This would begin an account of a dystopic future/present wherein language was in force without signification and people couldn't read although they knew what written language was. The problem, though, is that the story doesn't work: how could the narrator tell it? And to whom? Or would this tension somehow perform the nightmare of being trapped in this kind of incommunicable language?