2 Authors, 1 Person

Today I went through another long episode of depersonalization—the kind where you feel like you’re just a spectator in your own body. It’s not as frightening as it sounds: it’s simply my “other self” taking over, staring at a single spot with its own thoughts, while the conscious part of me tries to break through. It sounds more dramatic than it really is; it’s nothing like what you see in movies like Split (and I doubt it’s even close).

What I’m getting at is that, when I reread my books, sometimes there are passages that don’t feel familiar—sections where I can’t remember exactly when I wrote them, or if it was, somehow, my “other self” who did the typing. It happens especially during those moments when the writing just flows: the story, the plot, the characters, the whole world is clear in my mind… but I’m never quite sure which version of me is putting those ideas on the page.

I’ve been thinking about this for days. What if that other part of me has ruined my books? What if it was the one who decided a plot was good, or a certain dialogue worked? I don’t have the answer. But maybe, just maybe, these stories aren’t the work of a single author, but two—both sharing the same person. And honestly, I think there’s something special about that.

—T