Antichapter 13: The Third Step

“I’ve got the list of his heroes,” said the antimuse.

“Great,” said the Voice. “The one you’re going to ignore.”

“I never said I was going to ignore the list,” said the antimuse. “I said I wasn’t going to invite them. I told you. I’ve got something worse planned.”

“What’s worse than them not showing up?” Asked the Voice. “I would think that would really depress him.”

“I’m not out to depress him,” said the antimuse. “I’m out to destroy him.”

“Good!” Said the Voice. “How will you do that?”

“Instead of his heroes, I’m inviting antiheroes,” said the antimuse. “They’re going to rip him apart. Just tear him up.” The antimuse laughed. “When they’re done, he’ll never write another word. Not another word. Then he’s ready for the third step.”

“And what’s that?” Asked the Voice.

“I call it the Joseph Beller finale,” said the antimuse. “I get him to see that suicide is his only answer.”

Refs:

12The Second Step140

14God’s In The Meeting!152

The List

“Here’s the list,” I said to the muse. “These are my heroes.”

“You’ve already given her the list,” said the metanovel. “And she’s not here.”

“I did?” I asked. “She’s not?”

“Yes you did,” said the metanovel. “And no, she’s not. That sentence is left over from an earlier draft.”

The metanovel was right. Before the author had written The Imagined Meeting on page 143 he’d created this section as placeholder for a scene in which he gives the list to the muse. He’d written just one line: ‘“Here’s the list,” I said to the muse, “These are my heroes.”’ Then he’d gone back and worked on earlier parts of the metanovel, eventually arriving here.

“That’s right,” said the metanovel.” While you were writing The Imagined Meeting you came up with the idea of having the muse interrupt you and get the list.”

“So why is this chapter still here,” I asked. “Why didn’t I just delete it?”

“I don’t know,” said the metanovel. “But I think it has something to do with what you realized on page 142, The End Is In Sight.

The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator did know.

The metanovel was right.

Get To The Meeting

“You’ve got another ten crappy practice chapters between here and the meeting,” said my inner critic. “They don’t add anything, except chapters, pages, and time.”

“I’ll look at them,” I said.

I looked.

“You’re right,” I said.

I deleted them.

“You’re an idiot for listening to me,” said my inner critic.

New Chapter 4: Brainstorming Meeting

The conference room was large, well lit, and well appointed, just as he’d imagined. An enormous teak table sat in the center, ringed by chairs, also as he’d imagined. The author and the muse arrived early.

A few minutes later Metatron arrived, accompanied by two other Seraphim shouting “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. All the earth is filled with Her glory.” He hadn’t imagined that. Neither had the muse.

“I’m here to prepare the meeting for God’s Presence,” Metatron said.

“I didn’t invite God,” said the muse.

“God does not need an invitation,” said Metatron. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. All the earth is filled with Her glory.” He squinted at the muse. “Do you have a problem with that? I’d advise against that. You really don’t want to f*** with God.”

The muse paused. “No,” she said. “No problem.”

“Good,” said Metatron. “He looked around the room. The room’s OK,” he said, “but God sits at the head of the table. It’s in Her contract. You need to move.”

“I don’t remember any contract,” I said.

“He doesn’t remember a contract,” the muse repeated.

Metatron ignored the muse. “Is this your signature?” Metatron asked, thumbing through a the stack of papers that had appeared in his hands as I typed the words ‛stack of papers.’ He found the page he wanted and pointed.

“It’s my signature, but I don’t remember signing anything” I said.

“That’s because you haven’t signed it yet,” said Metatron. “You’re going to sign it in Epilogue 3, which will be called Retroactive Legal Details.”

Metatron thumbed through the pages. “Section Seven specifies that God gets to sit at the head of the table in any chapter in which both She and a table are present. ”

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” said the muse. She slipped away to an antichapter.

Reorganization

“Shit!” I said. I was in Portland, Maine, in a the Starbucks on Congress Street. “This is completely screwed up!”

“What?” Asked my metanovel.

“I’ve got you organized all wrong!”

“What do you mean?” Asked the metanovel.

“The sequence of your chapters,” I said. “I’ve got to change them.”

“Again?” Asked the metanovel. “Didn’t you talk about it in The End Is In Sight on page 142?”

“That was a forward-reference to this section,” I said. “That’s when I realized it. This is when I’m going to do it. There’s only been one reorganization.”

“Is it a big job?” Asked the metanovel.

“It will take a few days,” I answered. “And then I’ve got to do another editing pass. I’m sure that there will be gaps. And I’m not quite sure about all of the sequencing. I may have to remove some of your chapters.”

“That sounds horrible,” said the metanovel. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve removed whole segments before. Stuff that just didn’t work. That didn’t hurt did it?”

“I don’t know,” said the metanovel. “I only came to life a few drafts ago. I can’t remember anything before then.”

Indeed the metanovel could not. A few drafts before the metanovel came to life the author had stopped deleting chapters and paragraphs that didn’t work and had started to move them to the end of his draft. The draft was now 206 pages, would grow to 371, including all the draft material he hadn’t used, and would shrink to 216 when he got rid of the parts that would never work.

“Can’t you just forget about reorganizing me and just finish me?” Asked my metanovel. “I don’t need to be perfect, you know.”

“I’m not trying to make you perfect,” I said. “I’m trying to make you something that I imagine.”

“Is there something wrong with me?” Asked the metanovel.

“No,” I said. “But there’s something that I imagine that I want you to evolve into, and you’re not there yet. But you will get there. I’m determined. I’m not going to quit until you’re there.”

“How will you know when that happens?” Asked the metanovel.

“I don’t know how I’ll know,” I said. “But I know I’ll know.”

The author was wrong. He did know how he’d know. He just did not know that he knew how he’d know.

“You were right,” the author said to the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator, a few drafts later. “It’s in a section that I hadn’t written yet.”

“I know how I’ll know,” he said to the metanovel, “When I stop imagining that I’ve imagined what you are, and realize that I’ve actually imagined you, I’ll be done. Or a few drafts from done. Look at page 119, Imagining The Metanovel. That’s what I need to do.”

The author was right. He’d learned a lot, writing draft after draft. He was evolving the metanovel, as he’d realized when he wrote page 124, Evolving The Metanovel, which at one time was later in the book than Imagining The Metanovel but was always written earlier in time.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said the metanovel. “I really want to be complete.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said, but that doesn’t matter. “I have faith. I didn’t understand how important faith was until I wrote Faith, which will now be on page 156.”

“And now I know what I imagine you to be,” the author said, many drafts later. “And I even know what I’m doing.”

Indeed, this time the author did.