Sunday, November 21, 2010

Reality Fiction

  Most if not all story is a reaction to something that has already happened or a defensive fear of the consequences of something that might happen,  Thus story has had time to sprout an emotional bud, and now inspires some sort of visual plan where the furniture of reality is rearranged.

It is not by any means that you have issues with Reality, although there are parts of it, particularly bureaucratic parts that drive you to impatience.  Impatience turns out to be one of the more useful tools in your toolkit; your desires to get a desired thing underway or to remove yourself from the slipstream of an bureaucratic system inspire story.  Reality simply is.  In recognition of some of the more magisterial aspects of it, you seek to create a story of your own in which your reality may plausibly be substituted for the real Reality without creating any speed bumps or disjunctive associations.

You could also say that one of your reactions to Reality is an admiration so intense that you wish to snip off a bit of it, propagate it as you have done with the leaves and stems of succulents or, in some cases, even common geraniums.   Fond of you are of seascapes or mountainous or valley landscapes, the thing you most enjoy about Reality is the people who lurk and skulk about within it, those who stride with vigor and purpose, those who complain, even those who seem to reach near evangelism with their inner happiness.

People are attractive because most of them either initiate or take pains to avoid initiating events.  Bring a few together in a room or under the stars, particularly there at night, because after all, that's where the concept of lunacy got its start, and things happen to them, seemingly with no proper explanation or introduction.  It is as though Reality is speeded up when people are around.  Nature isn't in as much hurry; look at the time it takes for mountains to form or species to evolve or tides to etch grooves.

Put people in the room.

Schedule an event.

Double- or triple-book the room.

Now you have two or three different groups of persons trying to occupy the same space.

Now you have attitude and expressions of entitlement.

Now you have story.

If you were wise enough, your story would also have pace--slow, stately processions if the work were to have any sense of gravitas with which to convey your intent.  But you are impatient.  Slow is not your game.  Pace is more your game than gravitas.

Comedy is tragedy speeded up.

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