An Apology from Your Author

    ...

    Okay, I'm sorry I freaked out. It's just that this is my first novel and it's kind of a big deal and if this doesn't go well then I'll have to move back in with my mother and if I have to do that then I will probably throw myself under a street sweeper—so, as you can see, there's a lot on the line. This is a very real life-or-death situation I have on my hands here.

    But it's all okay now. Nothing to worry about. I took a vacation to the Rococoas. I'm on my fourth mojito. I have collected myself. This'll be good. This is good. Good...

    ...

    Hello? Were you listening to any of that? Are your eyes even on the page right now? Bah! Wouldn't surprise me if you were on your stupid phone taking a picture of this so you can prove to the world how much of a 'bookworm' you are. Hilarious.

    Alright woman, just shut up (for once) and listen.

    It has occurred to me that there is likely a few more things I should make clear to you before we start, since the probability is high that this is your first time reading a book. (One without perfume samples or coupons, that is.)

    The first thing you should know is that I did not choose to write this story. None of us Writer's choose what it is we write. That's why we go to Church every Wednesday and Sunday, and that's why we pray every night before bed (or drink; it amounts to the same). We are all asking the Great Publisher in the sky to grant us something to write about. In our religion, the term for this practice is: seeking Inspiration.

    If we're lucky, the Publisher may allow us to write something for Her. She will show us what She is interested in—it could be through a dream or a hallucination, but most of the time it is just a strong feeling in the linings of our stomachs—and it is up to us to try and convey this awesome vision to the mortal masses.

    Following me so far? Oh...just do the best you can, alright?

    So. There are three main trunks on the Writer's family tree—Poets, Reporters, and Authors—and each practice their faith in different ways.

    Poets are those who are the deepest in-touch with the Publisher's vision. So deep, in fact, that much of the work that they produce is so raw and so concentrated that the average brain can't interpret the message at first glance. For instance, take a poem by one of my dear friends, SnowFlower Poetman:

[poem]

    This may not appear to be much of anything. It may even look like complete rubbish. But not only is this poem indeed much of anything, not only is it not nothing, not only is it in fact something, it is very close to everything. What these things are, I cannot say. Critics have been dissecting those two stanzas for nearly seven years now, and in that time they have pieced together an unabridged version of this poem, one that is currently 7.2 million words in length. (As far as they can decipher, as of the time of the writing of this book, the message has something to do with farming apricots.)

    And then there's Reporters. Reporterladies's and Reportermen's ears are the furthest from the Publisher's voice, not much closer than the average Salesman's or Cheflady's, in fact. But it is exactly for this reason that they are the most capable when it comes to actually communicating with other Beings. They know the simplest, most efficient, and clearest way to relay a message to the average listener or reader....they just sometimes have trouble knowing what that message is supposed to be. That is why they always carry around cameras or microphones. They have to document everything, just in case they don't recognize Inspiration or Significance when it's right in front of their noses. This is also why they are sometimes seen in herds around celebrities, yelling and screaming: TELL US SOMETHING! TELL US ANYTHING! SAY SOMETHING! TELL US WHAT'S IMPORTANT! DO IT! DO IT, NOW!

    Finally, there's my branch, the Authors. We lay somewhere between Poets and Reporters, specializing in neither hearing the Publisher's voice nor in effective, succinct communication with our audience.

    But, since we are not firmly rooted in either reality or in what we Writers call Intuition, we are not restricted to any single means of storytelling. There are many schools of style (or Perspective) and I may switch between Perspectives at multiple points during this book....probably. I haven't written it yet, so I can't be one-hundred-percent positive about what's going to happen.

    Like right now. I am in my own Perspective, talking to you as myself with no knowledge other than my own. This is sometimes called Perspective of the Fourth Kind. It is fourth, not first, because a Writer's most natural state is not her own, just like with Actors and Politicians. Perspective of the First Kind is where we Authors really shine.

    In much the same way that Psychics can allow themselves to be possessed by the souls of the deceased, it is possible for us Authors to merge our essence with the essences of others, with them being completely unaware, whether they be living, dead, or from a different dimension (i.e.: Fictional). Here, let me engage this ability and scan around for a soul, just to show you what this nifty gifty looks like:

    ...

    Oh, God...

    What did I do?

    There was so much blood. Buckets of it. Sloshing out of his neck and congealing into black jelly on my couch.

    I didn't mean to do it! I swear! I swear, I swear, I swear! The only reason I did it was because I loved him. Is it possible to love someone too much? I mean, I told him on more than one occasion that I loved him to death. He knew this could happen! Since when was it okay to lie?

    But it was done now. The relationship was well beyond the point of no return. Time to move on.

    So, I went into the kitchen, grabbed my favorite turkey carver, located my largest cheese grater, and dug out the ice-cream scoop—

    ...

    Nope.

    Nope, nope, nope. Not doing this one anymore. God, I really should start doing my research before I go gallivanting through the spiritual cosmos.

    But you at least get the picture, I hope? It's a great party trick, one that I'm (usually) very fond of.

    There are other Perspectives, but I won't go into too much detail on them. Like, I could focus my Perception on you (we call this the Perspective of the Second Kind), but I won't do that out of respect to us both. There's also, of course, everybody's favorite, the Omniscient Perspective of the Third Kind, which is...well, no need to bother ourselves with that one today. It gets enough attention as it is.

    I guess here's what I'm getting at. Even though I wrote the prologue in a kind of Perspective of the Third Kind, I perform best in the Perspective of the First Kind, which means that I am going to merge my writing with the soul of a complete stranger—whomever it is that the Great Publisher wishes me to focus on. So, when I dip into this person's essence and start using the words "I" and "me" and so-on and so-forth, I am not actually speaking about me or I, you understand? I am speaking on behalf of another.

    ...understand?

    Oh what's the use. If you can't follow something as simple as that, you're not going to follow anything from here on out.

    Whatever. I've said what I needed to say. Let's hurry up and get this book over with. Hopefully we're almost done.