Bateman- Writing Ellis' Life

The last day and night were so far out of the realm of anything I had experienced before that the fear was now laced with a low and tangible excitement. I could no longer deny becoming addicted to the adrenaline. The sweeps of nausea were subsiding and a terrible giddiness was taking their place. When I thought of “order” and “facts” I simply began laughing. I was living in a movie, in a novel, an idiot’s dream that someone else was writing, and I was becoming amazed—dazzled—by my dissolution. If there had been explanations for all the dangling strands in this reversible world, I would have acted on them

  (but there could never be any explanations because explanations are boring, right?)

  though at this point I just wanted it all to hang in the limbo of uncertainty.

  Someone has been trying to make a novel you wrote come true.

  Yet isn’t that what you did when you wrote the book?

  (But you hadn’t written that book)

  (Something else wrote that book)

  (And your father now wanted you to notice things)

  (But something else did not)

  (You dream a book, and sometimes the dream comes true)

  (When you give up life for fiction you become a character)

  (A writer would always be cut off from actual experience because he was the writer)

  “Mr. Ellis?”

Lunar Park, chapter 16