Part XIII: Endgame

If at last you find success, clean up the loose ends and you’re done. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Done At Last! Almost. My metanovel was finished. “Then why are you writing this?” Asked my inner critic. “You just said it was finished.” “I am,” I said, “But I learned something really important while I was editing it, and I don’t want to forget what I learned. I learned the importance of decision, imagination, belief, and prac­ tice. “And I learned the importance of having a safe place, and en-joying my life.” “Didn’t you write it in the first draft?” Asked my inner critic. “I did,” I said. “Except for the safe place part. That part was really important.” “And didn’t you write about it more in the fifth, and the twenty-third, and…” my inner critic listed the drafts during which I’d elaborated on the importance of decision, imagination, belief, and practice.” “Yes,” I said. “Except for the safe place part.” “Then why on earth are you writing it again?” My inner critic asked. “Are you an idiot?” “There’s a reason,” I answered. “If I keep writing, I’ll know what it is.” I thought back to November, writing my first draft. Almost all of the ideas that are in this fi­ nal version were in the first draft. But they were buried and disorganized. And they were in my head even before the first draft. Buried and disorganized. I knew them, but I didn’t understand them. “I didn’t practice,” I said. “I knew I should practice but I didn’t do it. Really I didn’t know how to. What I said about metapractice was true.” I thought back to November again. Writing the first draft hadn’t been hard. It took a little time, and it took almost no practice. And it was fun. I found that I cared about what I had writ­ ten. But I couldn’t finish it. I didn’t know how to finish it. I didn’t even know how to edit it. I’d edit the first five pages, or the first ten, and then quit. I’d try again. And then I’d give up. I’d get frustrated and put it away for weeks. I’d write new beginnings, and edit them. I’d get frustrated again. I’d get upset. I’d get angry. I’d get depressed. And finally, I started to practice. Really practice. I forced myself to do a complete editing pass, from the front to the back. I threw things out. I added things. But most of all, I read what I’d written. I paid attention. And I did what I’d been telling myself to do. “If you hadn’t been such a moron, you would have done it sooner,” said my inner critic. “Maybe,” I said. “But in the end I didn’t give up. That’s important to remember, too.” I did another complete editing pass. And read what I’d written. And applied some more. I kept doing it. Practice, Practice Practice! Then my metanovel came to life. It wanted to be finished. And then I really started to practice. I wrote and edited every day. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies “You skipped a day,” said the metanovel. “But it was only one day. And you did work. You did practice.” My metanovel and I focused on finishing. And finally, it was done. Or nearly done. I just had a few more details to clean up. “Meaning it’s not done,” said my inner critic. “I keep saying that.” “No,” I said. “It’s done. I’m declaring victory. I’m imagining. I’m practicing. “It’s done,” I said. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Metanovel Writing Self-referential metanovel writing writing is what I used to teach myself what I didn’t know I needed to learn. Self-referential metanovel writing is what I used to transform myself, and what I continue to use. Every morning I keep writing my metanovel, my story of myself. And I spend a lot the rest of the day practicing what I’ve been writing. You can learn to do it, too. Me? Asked a number of readers. Not Quite Omniscient Narrator knows which ones you were. So does God. Metanovel writing is not hard. First, you need to read a self-referential metanovel to gain ex­ perience with one so you can imagine your own. Then you just have to remember the two fundamental principles of metanovel writing: First, start writing. Once you start writing a self-referential metanovel, you’re both the author and a character. That means you can write a change in your character in the metanovel, then read what you wrote and become that changed character, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But if you practice writing and reading what you’ve written you will make the change more complete and more permanent. That’s all it takes. You just have to start, and to practice. “And not quit,” said the metanovel. “Never quit. That’s the second principle. They need to remember that, too.” The metanovel was right, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator narrated. The author was suc­ cessful because he didn’t quit. He kept evolving. And now he has reached his first major object­ ive. Then, for a reason that the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator didn’t quite know even as it nar­ rated what it was doing, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator felt the need to repeat the first prin­ ciple: First, start writing. Once you start writing a self-referential metanovel, you’re both the author and a character. That means you can write a change in your character in the metanovel, then read what you wrote and become that changed character, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But if you practice writing and reading what you’ve written you will make the change more complete and more permanent Reading this metanovel and remembering the First and Second Principles of metanovel writ­ ing was enough to teach any reader what to do. Any reader. Including the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator! Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Omniscience At Last! The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator turned back a page and read once more what it had nar­ rated: First, start writing. Once you start writing a self-referential metanovel, you’re both the author and a character. That means you can write a change in your character in the metanovel, then read what you wrote and become that changed character, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But if you practice writing and reading what you’ve written you will make the change more complete and more permanent. And once again: First, start writing. Once you start writing a self-referential metanovel, you’re both the author and a character. That means you can write a change in your character in the metanovel, then read what you wrote and become that changed character, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But if you practice writing and reading what you’ve written you will make the change more complete and more permanent. The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator conceived an idea. “I’m the idea that you can use this knowledge to change yourself,” said the Not Quite Omni­ scient Narrator’s idea. That was the answer! The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator re-narrated a variant of the line it had first narrated. It bound ‘author’ to ‘narrator,’ ‘narrating’ to ‘writing, ‘read’ to ‘renarrate’ and ‘wrote’ to ‘narrated.’ It narrated the result in the next paragraph: First, start narrating. Once you start narrating a self-referential metanovel, you’re both the narrator and a character. That means you can narrate a change in your character in the metanov­ el, then renarrate what you narrated, and become that changed character, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But practice narrating and renarrating can make the change more complete and more permanent. The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator had wanted to become an omniscient narrator. It had sucked up to God, hoping that God would make it omniscient. Now, the answer was clear! It had been there all the time. The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator could narrate its way to omniscience in its own self- referential metanovel. Because it could be both the narrator narrating its own metanovel and the narrator in its own metanovel, it could narrate the narrator in its metanovel becoming omni­ scient. Then it could renarrate what it had narrated and become an omniscient narrator, even if only a little bit, even if only for a little while. But practice was going to make the change more complete and more permanent. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Interchapter Narration Break The Not Quite Omniscient Narrator created an interchapter break, a quiet place where it could narrate its own metanovel. It followed the First Principle, and started. Surprisingly, this is what it narrated: God helps those who narrate themselves, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator narrated God narrating within the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator’s narration of the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator’s metanovel. Quite so, the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator narrated narrating. It took time and practice, and little by little the Not Quite Omniscient Narrator became Quite Omniscient. “Good job!” God said. “Yes,” said the metanovel. “Well, done.” “I agree,” said the author. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve it.” “You’re an idiot narrator,” said the author’s inner critic. “You should have figured this out drafts ago.” “What are you going to call yourself now,” asked the metanovel. TNFKATNQON, TNFKATNQON narrated. “That’s a stupid name,” said the author’s inner critic. “No one will figure out what it means.” “I did,” said almost all the readers. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Epilogue 3:Retroactive Legal Details “Sign here,” said Metatron. “What’s this?” I asked. “It’s the contract with God that you will have signed previously,” said Metatron. “Do I have a choice?” I asked. “Of course,” said Metatron. “God has given you free will. But if you don’t sign, there will be consequences.” “What consequences?” I asked. “Everything from the middle of page 149 will disappear,” said Metatron. “So will all the ed­ its you’ve made since the first time you drafted this line that I’m about to quote: “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.” “That will make almost all of the current draft disappear,” I said. “Correct,” said Metatron. “Narrate a pen, please,” I asked. The author picked up a pen, narrated TNFKATNQON. “Narrate me signing, please,” I asked. And with the pen he’d just picked up, the author signed the contract, thus completing the metanovel. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Epilogue 4:It’s Really Done! It’s really done! Finally, my novel is really done! I didn’t think I could do it, but I really did. It was hard. In fact it was nearly impossible for me. The odds against it were enormous. But it was really done. And I was a different person for having written it. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies No It’s Not! “It’s not done!” Said my inner critic. “What happened to your idea of applying decide, ima­ gine, practice to your ADD, or to getting in shape? Are you just going to drop them?” I thought for a minute. “No,” I said, “I’m not going to drop them. But I’m also not going to hold up finishing Self- referential metanovel Writing for Dmmies: a self-referential metanovel. It took me nearly a year to get myself focused on finishing. It may take another year for each of the other things that I want to do. Meanwhile I’ve got some more writing projects to do. It’s nearly November. NaNoWriMo is coming up again. I’ve got a vague idea for my next novel.” “Yes!” Said the idea for my next NaNoWriMo project. “You’ve conceived me! I exist! Let’s talk!” “Sure,” I said. “But let me finish this first.” Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Epilogue 5:Catch-11 Joseph Beller stood in the middle of a small room. He’d been dead, but not quite completely dead. People still remembered him. And now he was alive. He looked around. The room was nicely furnished and well lit. In one corner was a bed. In another was a desk. There were no doors, and no windows. On the desk was a typewriter, and next to the typewriter a stack of paper. On the wall, above the desk was a bookshelf with just two books. Beller walked over, picked up the first book and looked at the title. He sat down, stunned. It said: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. “Joseph Heller!” He said. He remembered Heller. He’d lived in the apartment across the hall. He’d wanted to be a writer, and would show Beller his work and ask for criticism. It was really poor writing. To his credit, Heller knew he wasn’t a good writer, but he was determined to practice. Some­ how, he told Beller, he was going to publish something. Beller opened Catch-22 and started reading. It was Catch-33! His Catch-33, practically word for word. He skipped through it, recognizing familiar passages. He turned to the end. The last words in the book were the last ones he’d written in his 22nd catch. He shook his head. He turned to the back cover: critical acclaim! One of the best books of the century. That fucking muse! He thought. She’d said Catch-33 was worthless. He picked up the other book. It was Closing Time, also by Joseph Heller. He started reading, skipped ahead and read some more, skipped ahead and read more. Here were his characters, Yossarian, Milo Minderbinder, ex-PFC Wintergreen, Chaplain Tapman, and more, in a sequel, written in a slightly improved version of Heller’s bad style. He’d learned something, but he hadn’t learned much. That fucking muse! He thought. That fucking, fucking muse! He didn’t know where he was. But he knew why he was here. He had another chance. And he wasn’t going to let it slip by him. He knew what he had to do. He pulled out a sheet of paper, put it in the typewriter. He’d write the missing eleven chapters. He started with the cover page: Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Catch-11 by Joseph Beller Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies It’s Actually Not Bad “I hate to say this,” said my inner critic. “But it’s not bad.” “Really?” I asked, expecting a nasty reply. “What’s not bad?” “This metanovel,” said my inner critic. “It’s actually turned out quite well.” “Really?” I asked. I hadn’t expected my inner critic to say something nice.. “Yes,” said my inner critic. “Of course, you’re going to puff up about it. And there are a ton of things that could have been better. Normally I’d rake you over. But I have to tell you this: it’s really not that bad.” “Really?” I asked. I hadn’t expected my inner critic to expand its nice comments. That was so out of character. “No, not really” said my inner critic. That sounded like the inner critic I knew. “Can’t you ever be nice?” I asked. “I said ‘no’ because ‘not that bad’ is unfair,” said my inner critic. “It’s actually pretty good. And you’ve been getting rid of some of your more annoying habits.” “Really?” I asked. “That’s one of the annoying habits you haven’t gotten rid of,” said my inner critic. “Can’t you write some more intelligent dialog for yourself than ‘Really?’ ‘Really?’ “Really?’ “I give you what’s probably the only compliment I’m ever going to give you, and you act like a moron.” “Now, finish the fucking book,” said my inner critic, “Before I take back the nice things I said about it.” “OK,” I said. “Just two more page.” Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies Postlude Self-referential metanovel Writing for Dmmies: a self-referential metanovel is the story of how Self-referential metanovel Writing for Dmmies: a self-referential metanovel was written— by me, and the metanovel, with help from my imaginary God. But it isn’t the whole story. I wrote pages and pages that never got here. More than a hundred are tacked to the end of this draft and there are hundreds abandoned in other drafts. They’re all good pages. It just wasn’t their time. Every page has at least one idea, and every idea is alive. Each appeared magically, and taught me something. Some may live in a different book. Some in a blog. Some will be trans­ formed. Others will silently await the heat death of the universe. I am grateful to each. Writing my self-referential metanovel has helped me do things I’d been trying to do for a long time. I’m much more organized than I was when I started. I’ve lost ten pounds. I’m exer­ cising regularly. And I’ve written my first book, and what may well be the world’s first self-referential metanovel. Through my story I discovered my safe place and its importance. Now I go there regularly— in my imagination, at least—and I go whenever I need to. My regular visits help me practice get­ ting there, and since I’m imagining that I’m there, my visits help me practice imagining. Here’s one way I practice. I set an alarm on my Android that goes off periodically—right now, every fifteen minutes. When the alarm goes off, the phone vibrates, and I start my session. I stop what I am doing, shut off and reset the alarm. If possible, I stand up. That’s a good practice right there, because I spend a lot of time sitting. If I can, I stretch while I’m doing the rest. First, I imagine I’m in my safe place, the one that the character who was me in the metanov­ el found. It takes only a second to do that now, because I’ve practiced a lot. Once in a while I de­ vote more than a second, working to making it realer than usual. I imagine I’m free from any upset, chaos or difficulty in life—mine, or others’. I imagine that I’m in space, far from Earth, far enough that the nearest thing I can see is a galaxy. I remind myself that I’m at the center of the universe. I imagine it. I feel it. I remind myself that I’m an accident and a mistake. I make sure that I feel the creeping seriousness of life sloughing off. There’s nothing wrong with being serious, providing it’s a useful tool, not a burden. I imagine that I’m surrounded by family and connected to all of life, wherever it is. I take a moment to feel the change. Then I take a moment and en-joy the moment. I put as much joy into that moment as I can in a very short time. Then I check to make sure I’m on task and haven’t gotten distracted . If I’m not on task, I stop and make a decision: make what I am doing my new task, or stop, reset, and get back on task. Whichever I choose, I now turn my attention to that task. I imagining focusing on my task and imagine working on it diligently until it’s done, or until the timer goes off again. Then I sit Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for Dmmies down, in a brighter, better, more joy filled world than the one I left, and I do what I just ima­ gined. I try to go to my safe place at other times. I’d like to be there all the time—there, completely safe, looking at the world through my eyes and controlling my mind and body from there. I don’t go through that whole routine all the time: sometimes because it’s inappropriate, and sometimes because my practice isn’t perfect. And sometimes, horribly, because I’ve disabled my alarm, forgotten that I’ve done it, and lost track of time for hours. But most of the time it works. I’d like to invite you, the reader reading this, to visit my safe place whenever you like. There’s always room. And it’s easy to get there. Just believe you can; decide to go there; and imagine that you’re there. If at first you don’t succeed, go meta. And once you get there, Prac­ tice! Practice! Practice! I imagine that some readers will try that. It’s not hard. If you do drop by, imagine me wel­ coming you. That’s what I imagine I’d do. If my safe place doesn’t suit you, you can find your own, then practice going there when you don’t have to, so you can go there when you need to. You can find one by writing a self-referen­ tial metastory in which you find one; or by deciding and imagining. Once you find it: Practice! Practice! Practice! It works for me. It might work for you. Or it might not. If it doesn’t then you need to find your own way. Believe, start, go meta, don’t give up. You’ll find it. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for D*mmies