Part VII: Imagination

If at first you don’t succeed, imagine something different. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies The Third Classic Blunder “I’m fucked,” I said stupidly. I reviewed the reasons that I was fucked. “I’ve got approximately twenty thousand words of crappy writing; that makes me a crappy writer. I’ve learned nothing; that makes me ineducable. I’m not getting any better; that makes me limited. I don’t have much talent; that makes me unfit. And what talent I have I use badly; that makes me wasteful. My ideas are stale; that makes me shallow. My dialog is stiff; that makes me inauthentic. My characters are weak; that makes me superficial. My descriptions are boring; that makes me a bore. I’ve got bad work habits; that makes me disorganized. I have no self-discipline; that makes me weak-minded. I’ll never finish writing it. If I finish writing it, I’ll never finish editing it. If I finish editing it, it won’t be very good. Together those mean that my metanovel is a hopeless effort. And my feet smell awful.” The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator saw that the author had fallen victim to one of the Three Classic Blunders. He hadn’t gotten involved in a land war in Asia, the First Classic Blunder; he hadn’t gone against a Sicilian when death was on the line, the Second. But he had made the Third Classic Blunder: never confuse what’s real with what’s imagined. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I know the difference between what’s real and what’s imagined.” The author clearly did not know the difference between narrating, which the Not Quite Om­ niscient Narrator was doing, and talking, which some characters did. But that was a minor stu­ pidity. His major stupidity was imagining that he knew the difference between what was real and what was imagined. It was one more case of the author confusing what was real with what was imagined. Uncharacteristically he did something that wasn’t stupid. He read what the Not Quite Omni­ scient Narrator had narrated. He didn’t understand it, but it was his metanovel, and once he real­ ized what he didn’t understand, he could remedy his understanding. He could use his imagination and imagine understanding. And he did. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Most Of Reality Is Imagined Just as I had imagined that I would imagine, I imagined the process of understanding what I didn’t understand. I imagined it would be easy. It turned out to be every bit as easy as I had imagined. I imagined that I’d imagine that I’d written an explanation, imagined that I’d read it, and then imagined that I’d understand it. I even imagined that this made sense. I started by imagining that I was writing, and imagined that I wrote the section below: Physical forces and objects in a universe may be real, but almost everything else—and there’s a lot of almost everything else—is imaginary. All assignments of value are imaginary. People exist, but “good people” and “bad people” are imaginary; actions exist, but “mistakes” are imaginary. So are “massive fuck ups.” Wars are real, but “unjust wars” and “just wars” are imaginary. And so are memories of war, and reasons for going to war, especially when based on imaginary weapons of mass destruction. I used italics even though I was writing, not thinking, and imagined it was alright to do so. Then I read what I’d written. “I understand,” I said, to make clear that I understood. “Every time I get upset, all I have to do is examine my upset. If I do, I’ll realize that I’m getting upset over something that’s imagin­ ary. Then the upset will go away.” But once again the author was too stupid to realize that he had only imagined that he under­ stood what he’d written that he’d read. What he wrote, read, and ultimately failed to understood overlooked a critical element, one that he didn’t imagine that he didn’t understand until several drafts later. But since most of reality is imagined, imagining that he understood was as real as most things. It let him imagine that he could write a section, which he imagined would later appear on page 103, in which he imagined that he used a new technique that he had invented to remedy the damage he’d caused by committing the Third Classic Blunder on page 101 . He called the tech­ nique unblundering, because that was the title that he had imagined would appear at the top of page 103. And having imagined it, he wrote it. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Unblundering As an imaginary character, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator knew more about imagination than the author. Wisely the author let the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator narrate. Some parts of reality were real, and some parts of reality were imaginary, the Not Quite Om­ niscient Narrator began. Reality consisted of things that could be sensed, observed, and meas­ ured, along with opinions, ideas, considerations, and agreements. The former constituted the real parts of reality; the latter were all imaginary. For every part of reality that is real there could be any number of opinions, ideas, considerations, and agreements. As a result, most of reality is not real. Most of it is imaginary. When the author had said: “I’m fucked,” he was not making a statement about the real part of reality. It was about the imaginary part. “I’m fucked” was imaginary. “‘I’m fucked’ was exaggerated,” I said to the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator. “It wasn’t ima­ ginary.” An exaggeration is a statement that enlarges something beyond the bounds of truth, counter- narrated the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator. In other words, it is an imagined condition that is based on, but overstates a reality. But “I’m fucked” was not even based on reality. It was entirely imaginary. “It was a metaphor,” I said. A metaphor is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator continued. In other words, like all metaphors, ‘I’m fucked’ was not part of the real part of reality; it was imaginary. “OK,” I said, giving up. “I give up. My statement, ‛I’m fucked,’ was imaginary.” So was almost everything else the author had said. ‘Approximately twenty thousand words’ was approximately real. But ‘crappy words:’ opinion, not real, therefore imaginary; ‘crappy writer:’ opinion, not real, therefore imaginary; ‘learned nothing:’ opinion, not real, therefore ima­ ginary; ‘ineducable’, ‘not getting any better,’ ‘not much talent,’ unfit,’ ‘talent used badly,’ ‘waste­ ful,’ ‘stale ideas,’ ‘shallow,’ ‘stiff dialog,’ ‘inauthentic,’ ‘weak characters,’ ‘boring descriptions,’ ‘boring,’ ‘superficial,’ ‘bad work habits,’ ‘disorganized,’ ‘no self-discipline,’ ‘weak-minded,’ all imaginary. The future is always imaginary until it becomes the present, so “I’ll never finish editing it:” imaginary, not real. “it won’t be very good:” imaginary, not real. There was just one thing that the author had said that was really real: the author’s feet smelled. But ‘smelled awful?’ Despite the fact that everyone who had thus far experienced the his foot odor had agreed that it was both intense and extremely unpleasant, those agreements were just another imaginary part of reality. The fact that the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator shared that universally held opinion didn’t make it real. It was still imaginary. “OK,” I said. “I understand. And I’m going to apply my understanding so I don’t make the Third Classic Blunder again.” Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies But the author only imagined that he understood. And he imagined that he’d apply his under­ standing. And he imagined that he wouldn’t make the Third Classic Blunder again. But he didn’t; and he wouldn’t; and he would. Things had changed, but not in the way the author had imagined. He had made decisions. They were decisions he would later decide to change, but deciding was almost always a good first step. By making those decisions he was beginning to unleash some of the most powerful forces in the universe. Decisions would change the metanovel. And his life. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies The Most Powerful Forces In The Universe Decision is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. Each moment each universe has an infinite number of possible next moments. Each next moment has an infinite number of pos­ sible subsequent moments, chained into an infinite number of possible futures. Decisions de­ termine which of the possible next moments becomes the next future present moment. Decisions make the other previously possible next moments impossible and make the potential futures that extend only from no-longer possible next moments impossible. Decisions have the power to change universes. They are powerful—and dangerous. Imagination is a comparably powerful force. Imagination can create entire new universes and create possible future moments for existing universes. Imagination influences decision; but decision controls imagination. Decide you can’t imagine something and you can’t imagine it. Decide that what you imagine can never be real and you can’t make it real. But decide that what you imagine could be real, then it not only can be real, it becomes real—if only in your imagina­ tion. Nothing can exist and nothing can happen without decision—not even imagination or ima­ gining—and except for evolution, nothing important can happen unless someone, somewhere, imagines it. This makes decision and imagination necessary for most of existence. Belief is even more powerful than decision or imagination. Most people don’t control what they believe because most people believe they can’t control what they believe. As an inevitable consequence, most people let their beliefs control them. Once a person who doesn’t control belief believes something, they find it hard to even ima­ gine something that is inconsistent with that belief; they find it hard to decide to imagine some­ thing that’s contrary to that belief; and they find it nearly impossible to believe something that’s inconsistent with that existing belief. Most people find it nearly impossible to change their beliefs, even when their beliefs cause them enormous amounts of pain. It starts with childhood miseducation. Children are taught to believe without thinking, and come to believe that believing is a state, or a condition and not an activity and a skill. Like every skill, believing can be improved with practice—but to improve believing you must first believe believing can be improved; second, believe you can improve believing; third, decide to improve believing; fourth, learn how to improve believing; and finally, practice improving believing. De­ ciding and imagining are also skills. People can improve deciding and imagining—but only if they believe, decide, learn, and practice. “Nice narration,” I said when the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator finally stopped narrating. “That’s how this book started. I decided to write it, and I imagined it. I hadn’t imagined much about it: just the word count and the time to write it. Since then I’ve been deciding and imagin­ ing. And it’s becoming real.” “That’s right,” said the metanovel. “And don’t forget belief. You believed you could write it. But writing is not finishing. You believe you’re not a finisher. Can you believe you can finish me in spite of that belief? If you don’t, then I don’t believe I’ll ever be finished. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies I believed it was an important question and I believed it deserved thought before I answered. So I thought. Then I answered. “I believe I can,” I said. “And I’ve decided to believe that I will.” The author had made decisions that had changed the metanovel and his life. There were oth­ er decisions he would need to make to end up where he imagined going. But deciding and ima­ gining would not be enough. To succeed he’d need to practice. And to do that, he’d have to de­ cide to write the section called Practice! Practice! Practice! And then he’d have to write it. And then he’d have to spend months editing it and the rest of the metanovel so that Practice! Practice! Practice! ultimately ends up on page 112. Once he writes it, he’ll imagine that he understands what he’s written. He’ll imagine he un­ derstands because he’s still metastupid. Writing a chapter won’t get him to understand. He won’t really understand until he actually practices. And practices. And practices. Practice builds understanding. It takes a lot of practice to understand. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Unreality And Imagination I finished writing Most Of Reality Is Imagined, got up and stretched. I went to the kitchen, turned on the Nespresso machine that my wife, Bobbi, had bought me for Christmas. While it warmed up I packed two capsules with coffee. I liked the coffee maker but the Nespresso coffee capsules were a ripoff. I’d found a way to fill my own. “What’s wrong?” Bobbi asked me, as she walked into the kitchen. “You look strange.” “I feel strange,” I answered. “I feel unreal. I feel like I’m imagining things. I thought coffee might help.” “What do you mean?” She asked. “I feel like I’m not a real person. Like I’m a character in a story. Like I’m just imagining my life.” “What about me?” She asked. I looked at her, turned the machine on, and put the capsules I had just packed in the tray with the other packed capsules. I pulled one out and put it into the receptacle. “I feel like you’re a character, too. I feel like I’m not all here, like we’re not really having this conversation. I’m ima­ gining you, too.” “Really? It seems like you’re here. Like I’m talking to you. Like you’re talking to me.” “I know,” I said. “It seems that way to me, too. But at the same time it seems like a dream. Like I’m imagining things.” She put her arms around me and held me. “Does anything seem real?” She asked. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was smiling. I hugged her, stroked her back and shoulders, and thought for a while. Did anything seem real? “Nothing seems entirely real,” I said, “but some things seem realer than others.” “What’s realer than this?” She asked. The smile was still there. I stopped typing so I could think of a good answer. “You look strange,” Bobbi said, as she stepped onto the porch where I had been writing. “What’s wrong.” “I feel unreal,” I answered. “I feel strange. I feel like I’m imagining things.” Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Did You Understand? “Did you understand the section you just wrote?” Asks the metanovel. “I mean the section called The Most Powerful Forces In The Universe? Not the one called Unreality And Imagina­ tion. What you wrote about those forces is one of the most important things you’ve written.” I had to admit that I didn’t understand it entirely. In fact I found it a little confusing. “I didn’t understand it entirely,” I had to admit. “In fact I found it a little confusing.” “It’s confusing because you’re confused,” says the metanovel. “You’ve successfully commu­ nicated your confusion, and it took you ten pages to do it.” “What did I write that you think is so important?” I ask the metanovel, metastupidly. “It’s the power of belief, decision, and imagination,” said the metanovel. “You’ve decided that writing me is going to help you change. And you’re imagining that writing me will help you change. But right now you don’t believe what you’re imagining, so you’ve decided that what you’re imaging is never going to be real. You hope it will be real, but hoping is not the same as deciding.” A thought for a few days about that. “You’re right,” I said, when I returned to writing. “Hop­ ing is not deciding. And I don’t believe what I am imagining.” “You’ve got to work on your belief,” said the metanovel. “That’s one of the points of what you wrote. Unless you believe that change is possible, change isn’t possible.” The metanovel continued. “And ten pages is way too long. Get it down to one. Two at the most. Rewriting is a kind of practice, and practice builds understanding. You said that, too. You’ll understand what you wrote after you practice rewriting it a few dozen times. “I did?” I asked. “I don’t remember.” Talking to my metanovel seemed unreal, but I realized my metanovel was giving me good advice. When I get good advice it doesn’t matter where I get it. I went back and edited what I’d written. It took me a few dozen drafts before I was satisfied. “See,” said the metanovel. “Isn’t it clearer now?” It was. And things felt realer. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for D*mmies