I’m in the middle of my Flannery O’Connor-esque black comedy and holy crap, my villain (I guess that’s ultimately the best word) is absolutely stomach churning. Almost literally. I feel somewhat sick when I write him.
He is a rapist. How do folks like George R.R. Martin WRITE things like this as a matter of routine? It’s disturbing.
Now I understand why Lewis didn’t want to write any more letters from Screwtape. It’s an uncomfortable experience.