На поверхности

It was important that everything [in Mister B. Gone] be contained within the words. In fact at one point somebody suggested I do some illustrations, and I said, 'Christ, no. Absolutely not!' This is about characters who live in our imaginations, conjured through these words. I don't want to do anything that could compromise that conjuring... [It's] exactly the opposite of Abarat. This is a book about 'The Word'. Where 'The Word' comes from; where 'The Word' goes; what 'The Word' can achieve; and what 'The Word' can fail to do.
It's a completely different kind of writing from third-person, because when you're constructing a narrative that way, it's a different kind of language you're using. Botch's language is particular to himself. He's not one for highfalutin terms. He speaks in basic, short sentences. The kind of language I used in Imajica, for instance, which was long sentences with many clauses in them and lengthy, dense paragraphs, was totally unwanted here. What I needed was Botch's simple, demonic voice.
I wrote it in a sort of madness. Once I started, I couldn't stop. It was strange, it was very strange. I even suspended painting for a while, which I haven't done for a long time and was not good for me physically. I actually keep fit by painting four hours a day. And it wasn't good to suspend that. But Jakabok, dammit, called me back to the page. Even when I was weary, I couldn't shut him up; he was there in my head. I knew what the next sentence was, always, always...

Увы, книга оказалась "не моя", прежде всего по стилистике, наверное... но я сознательно не стала погружаться в нее с головой, что лишило голос рассказчика его притягательной, демонической силы и власти напугать, ранить, заставить задуматься.