For a moment, all is darkness. To see into this darkness is for a blind man to see. It cannot be accomplished. You recall a darkness similar to this from a time long past, but you cannot deny the similarities.
Irony has a sense of humour however as this darkness begins to fade away to reveal a solitary figure in a rather familiar writing room to those readers from a different book written by this same author: A SkeleTON of Mystery: The Reincarnation.

Talk about a shameless plug-in am I right?
Don't answer that. I'm obviously right.

The figure's lower torso was turned to the left, right leg placed in a normal spot while the left leg curled around. Dressing (them legs) was a pair of dark blue jeans, with whitish parts in a few areas. His upper torso was turned towards you, with a white t-shirt reading "FUTURE" in a red shade covered by a black woollen jacket. One giant hand stretched out the middle and ring finger to form a "v" that was in front of the figure's face, with the other hand linked and pointing downwards. Shades covered his eyes and his black hair was even crazier than usual. But the figure was so stationary it seemed as if life did not exist within him, not a twitch to be seen from him.

And, of course, he was wearing red Crocs™.

"Creative writing is the hardest thing in the world to teach if you ask me." The figure suddenly spoke out loud, proving that he was indeed alive and not a wax figurine. "I don't pretend to be an expert on the subject."
"Well, in all honesty I'm not an expert on it at all." He admitted, sheepishly tousling the back of his head with his right hand before pulling said hand down to his side.
"But I do pretend to mostly know what I'm doing when I'm writing. And the fact that this chapter exists means that I'm doing something right, though I don't know what it is."

A relieved sigh came from him as the figure collapsed onto a very soft chair that had appeared from nowhere. "The thing about being a writer at a level of mine is that people use you for inspiration. But I think that also comes from how I write as well." He spoke, drinking from a red-and-blue swirled cup some sort of reddish soda that is known as Red Lemonade. "Take this entire introduction, for a start. A normal person would start off in first-person and stay like that, with no dialogue or anything like that."

"I, on the other hand, do things differently, albeit with much more difficulty." He chuckled, taking another sip. "If I removed all that dialogue and all that world-building, then this would be much more simple and shorter, though I daresay it would be easy to understand."
"That's my style of writing. Excessive, over-the-top chapters with more than required."
The man stood up, then walked over to a whiteboard reading the words "CREATIVE | WRITING", with an intentional slash down the middle of the two words.
"Today, I am going to try and teach you all I know about writing." He spoke, voice steady and strong. "And to do that- "

"Holy Deity of Magic, enough with the introduction!" The coolest Deity of Deities suddenly called out, annoyed with how long this was taking. "I swear, if you were any slower people might think you were dead again with how long you've been taking."

"You're unusually cranky today." The man pointed out; head cocked slightly to the side. "And it hasn't been all that long since we started. We're only about 500 words in."

"Speaking of words, tell them about the book while you're at it." I spoke, grumpy that my first appearance in so long was ruined. "I'm going to take a nap. Eyes, cover for me."

You wonder what the Deity was complaining about. As far as you know, she did not have an appearance scheduled.

"...Well, I'll just get on with the rest? I guess?" The teen questioned, more so to himself than anything.
"*ahem* So, I'll go over things in a style I don't usually cover; short paragraphs."

"I know, I know. 'NANI?! SHORT PARAGRAPHS?! WHO DA HECKERS ARE YOU?!' But hear me out."
"I've discovered the secret to more reads and votes: multiple short chapters. And with a book that will hopefully be beneficial to many people, this is a great way to spread it about. And I can only do that with more reads and votes. And comments. So please don't get mad at me."

The teen pulled out a baton, then pointed it at the board for no apparent reason.
Until the board changed with lots of headings.
"So, here's the deal. I'm going to split this book into two main parts: Creativity, and Writing. And in all honesty, starting with writing is the easiest."

"However!" The figure spoke with a much louder voice, then softened it. "Don't think of this as any ordinary help book. Think of this as a school book. A school book from T-Dude's School for Writers and Well-Written Worlds! ™ Name pending." A twinkle appeared in his eyes as his body started to move with his words. "I am Professor C.C, your teacher for the duration of your visitation." As he spoke, rectangle-framed glasses with curved corners replaced the snazzy shades that graced his head. His frazzled hair combed itself, parting itself to the professor's right. The jacket and t-shirt switched for a light-grey woollen jacket with a black shirt peppered with tiny white stars. His jeans stayed the same but had a much newer feel to it.

Apparently whatever MAGIC he used for his clothes didn't apply to his shoes, which stayed red Crocs™, though they were a little shinier. 

The location as well lacked immunity to this change, turning itself into a classroom one might find in any school. This one, however, had a chalkboard for a peculiar reason. You reason that a whiteboard would be much more effective and useful, but you say nothing. Perhaps he has his own peculiar reasons.

It's not as if this is the strangest thing he's ever done. Though it's up there.

"Before we can begin," the professor starts, looking right into the audience with a voice so formal he wouldn't be out of place in a true university, "I want to state a few things."

"First, there are many things I will say here that many of you will already know about. I know that. This is simply a guide from my own ideology."

"Second, this is also an insight into my mind. There are many things I find difficult to put into words properly. Henceforth, if there are things that simply do not make sense, tell me with comments. I will try to rectify your mind."

"Thirdly, and I assume this one is obvious, this is no ordinary help guide. As I stated, this is an insight into my mind. And my mind is a rather strange thing, for the thing that makes me a great author is also the thing that makes it difficult to express my thoughts in full; Dyslexia. But I do not regret having this disorder. After all, it makes life interesting for me and many."

"And finally, a homework task. Take a story that you are particularly proud of. My conditions are that it must be a story. Art books and day-to-day life books unfortunately do not fit my criteria. If you do not have one, and are a new author, then that is also excellent, because this might just help you write your book."

"So!" He spoke, with a rather strange finality in his voice. "The starting bell will ring in a while. You are free to leave now and not return, if that's what you wish. I won't stop you from doing so."
"But," and now, a twinkle appeared in his eyes "if you are bold enough to still stick around, then remember your homework. If you don't do it, then you won't see any difference."

"Class! Dismissed until tomorrow!"
And with that, the professor of a newly opened school bowed down, ending the chapter.

*******

For those of you with generalized questions, leave them on this line if you can. It makes it easier to find.

Of course, some questions may be answered as this book goes on.
I will try my best to update these books as much as possible, but school requirements may see a delay.
At any rate, I wish you the very best, and hope to see you again!
-Professor C.C