Imagine that somewhere in the world there exists two amazingly gifted authors who write genre fiction of every variety: science fiction, horror, fantasy, Westerns, thrillers, historical fiction...eschewing efforts to win Pulitzer or Nobel Prizes for literature, or big book contracts like Stephen has thrown into his face all the time, and other such nonsense...eschewing all of these in order to deliver to their readers highly unpredictable, completely enjoyable and satisfying (while at the same time, somewhat sad and forlorn, Carson McCullers kind of crap) novels of the quality and quantity that discerning readers have only dreamt about.
We are not those authors.
However, we, Emem and Jael, are writers of renown, and we are attempting to at least approximate the above credentials. We write books because they come to us as nightmares: like creatures that fly in the night and prey about those foolish enough to wander the streets, or we dream about dying many deaths, or zombies attack our gas stations and break through the windows and we have to spray them with the hose and set fire to the whole place, losing our franchise with the petroleum company...and our only way of releasing ourselves for these horrors is to pass them on to you; or we have movies playing in our head over and over until finally we write them down, and then these thoughts play over and over on the pages for as long as paper holds ink and words have meaning. We are those authors...and the pages of our books represent our humble contribution to your edification and enjoyment. Feed your brain...and forget about those two ideal writers, they never existed and they never will...and their stuff would probably be crap, anyway.