You have a character with a mental disorder in your forthcoming novel.
“Yes.”
How did you make that up?
“I prefer to talk about it figuratively. At one point it became clear to me that the material almost required a saphead to avoid monotony. So what I did, metaphorically speaking, I poured all the water out of the ocean that characterizes a human mind and placed, still figuratively speaking, the character on the seabed with the mental disorder in the foreground.”
It appears that you have created a stereotype and that you do not have a very deep understanding of the subject. What prevented you from opening a book about it?
“I let imagination rule.”
With the risk of pandering to the reader’s prejudices of people with a mental disorder? How do you think the reader’s social skills will evolve when you oversimplify and lie?
“I have no ambitions as regards that.”
How strange.
“My target audience is people who constantly say fuck.”
Why do you think they say fuck?
“To survive. Some say fuck and some say hurra. My audience says fuck.”
Do they mean it?
“I have no idea.”
Are you sure?
“I really do not know. I swear. But the character with the mental disorder appears only in a small part of the novel. All he does is sort some papers for the protagonist. He obviously does it wrong and has to start over several times.”
Naturally. What is the book about?
“About two whiskers.”
An interesting choice.
“Whiskers are placed over the mouth.
Inspired by Dali?
“A contract with the reader. By the way, the surrealist language is so old and established that one can take the liberty of expecting that the reader understands.”
You do not think the reader finds it a little too out-of-line?
“The reader who does not feel the joy and the love of the immense relief and curiosity I feel when dejection disappears and I sit down in front of my computer is not my reader.”
That makes sense.
“I discover joy. Just imagine. Joy fills me. I can share my joy through two whiskers.”
You could probably achieve the same through just one.
