The distinction, perhaps, lies in humor and self-awareness. The great Nut Jobs Author usually retains a sliver of the trickster. They know, on some level, that they are performing madness. Burroughs was grimly funny. Pynchon hides from cameras. Even Pound, in his later years, recanted his fascism. The dangerous nut job has no humor. The great nut job is a court jester with a knife.
So raise a glass to the paranoid, the grandiose, the delusional, the obsessive. Raise a glass to the author who replied to your polite rejection email with a 10,000-word treatise on how you are a pawn of the psychic vampires. They are annoying, exhausting, and often wrong. nut jobs author
This is the most lovable archetype. The Holy Fool writes a 1,200-page sci-fi/fantasy/horror/romance epic in which the grammar is optional, the plot relies on the concept of “quantum feelings,” and the hero defeats the Dark Lord by crying really hard. Think before he invented Scientology—his Battlefield Earth is a masterpiece of delusional pacing and accidental comedy. Or think of the self-published sensation Vernon Sullivan (a pseudonym of Boris Vian, who pretended to be a black American author translating his own work from a non-existent English original). The Holy Fool believes they are writing the next Dune . They are writing a beautiful, insane, unreadable fever dream. And we are richer for it. The distinction, perhaps, lies in humor and self-awareness