You politely scoot Frigglish off the books. That a boy.

Technically, only one of these books is yours, the writing journal. You're pretty secretive about your writing. Sometimes even you can hardly bear to read it. You are highly aware of the formidable writerly shadow cast over you, and can be critical to the point of embarrassment over your work. Just how drunk WERE you when you wrote this???, you often wonder to yourself. You don't think you'll be peeking at it soon. Maybe later.

The other book is another point of embarrassment, for completely different reasons.