The Book of Nasty was written entirely from within the vortex. Its content simply appeared on the pages as I banged onto the keyboard like a monkey hoping to create the Bible thru perseverance.
I completely confess that the whole concept is utterly schizophrenic. It was the pinch of insanity that allowed the pearl to form right here in my oyster.
The author’s reflection possessed an unencumbered mind, a mind through which I could see clearly.
But it also stole all my ideas, never bought any toothpaste or food and tried to chat up most of my girlfriends.
I seem to have lost touch with that intense spirit. I don’t have enough negative energy to convincingly summon it from my marrow.
To all aspiring writers; you will probably feel a lot happier dealing with writer’s block than you will having to put up with an author’s reflection. They have a certain exotic charm at first but the exquisite bliss of life on a creative mudslide is only bearable if you are experiencing the balancing force of catatonic depression. I’m sure I’ll run into my reflection again. I hope so almost as much as I’m dreading it.
PS; I hope that satisfactorily explains those otherwise incongruous ‘Author’s Reflection’s Raves’ at the beginnings of Splatterpuss and The Book of Nasty to people who haven’t yet read The Imnothero Principle.
