Narra

All Tom wanted to do was write a novel. The problem was that he didn’t have a topic. He sat in front of a blank word document for hours at a time but he couldn’t think of anything to write about. He’d go and take a walk, smoke a few cigarettes and when he came back all that was waiting for him was that white screen and more doubt. That’s where I come in. I’m a narrator; it’s my job to narrate. Everything you’ve read so far and everything you are about to read comes from me. I’ll be telling you everything you need to know in this story. I control the characters, further the plot, and provide all the twists and turns that will eventually culminate in an ending that will leave you, the reader, reflecting on this journey with awe and wonder. Tom created me—thank you Tom. Tom and I, we are the same person…but we’re different entities. We are one in the same but I am not Tom and Tom is not me. I stem from Tom and reflect and distribute everything that he wants me to tell you. This may sound a tad confusing but I urge you to not stress too much about it for it is merely the way things are. But I know you, and you want to know. So, I’ll try to tell you as best I can.

Tom isn’t a very good writer when the word is used in terms of profession. Yes, Tom can write well, but, as I’ve mentioned already, Tom can’t seem to get an idea to formulate in which to apply his good writing skills. However, something happened during one of those long dull hours that changed everything. Tom created a narrator: me. His fingers started to type, just as they are now, and what came to be is me and everything that follows. Does this mean that Tom has started to write his novel? Unfortunately, no. All this is is an introduction of me. Every word that is being produced is being created by Tom and yet Tom has no idea what is going to come next. Frankly, neither do I. That’s weird…I thought I was the one who unfolded the story, surely then I should know what comes next. On some level I must know what will be coming next because you are reading this which means it is a finished product. The words that come after these words are being created by Tom and being typed into his computer.

Wait…do I exist? If the only two things operating during this writing are Tom and the computer than where does the narrator come into play? I think that Tom just doesn’t want to face the fact that he has no clue what to write about so he started rolling with the idea that if he created this separate but ultimately connected entity called the narrator that it would help get the creative juices flowing and he’d be able to come up with an actual story to write about. But this piece of writing is still going, which not only means that Tom still has no idea what he wants to write about but also that I am here telling you all of this, so I must exist.

I think therefore I am: Descartes said that. We know Vincent exists because he is the one writing this, but do I exist? I know in that last paragraph I said I did, but now I’m not too sure. Vincent named me narrator and I started this piece of writing by referring to him as Tom, but now I’m calling him by his real name: Vincent. Tom was just the name of a character that Vincent was thinking of using in his not-yet-created story. It seems that he realized his story wasn’t going to come to fruition anytime soon and so he told me to tell you everything so far in this paragraph, namely that his real name is Vincent and Tom never really existed. He’s also very sorry that he lied to you.

I’m still wondering who it is that I am. I know I said earlier for you not to stress too much about who it is that I am for it is “merely the way things are“ but now it seems that we are both curious. Let’s try to figure this out together, shall we? Wait, you can’t respond to me, all you can do is continue reading what it is that I’m saying to you. Okay, I’ll try to figure this out for the both of us. Let’s start back at the beginning, at a time in which I was sure that I knew who I was and what my purpose was. I said that I was the narrator and that Tom (whom we now know to in fact be Vincent) created me because he was struggling to come up with a story. I said also, that everything that I was going to tell you came straight from him. That makes me the middle man of sorts. That also means that while I am not Vincent I am inseparably connected to his every thought and idea. Than why is it that I am having trouble deciphering my own existence? And why would I ask you a question when I already determined that you and I can’t communicate? Crap, I did it again.

I think I’m starting to understand what’s taking place here. I, the narrator, am simply a character created by Vincent with the purpose of passing time until he can come up with a real idea to start writing about. But, now that he’s written nearly a thousand words, he’s decided to keep at this piece of writing. Why would he do that? Oh, don’t worry I wasn’t really looking for an answer from you I was simply asking a rhetorical question. Asking you a question and anticipating an answer from you would be quite crazy as we’ve…I’ve…already established. I’ll repeat the question now so that we can get back on track. Why would Vincent dedicate more time to this writing instead of trying to formulate a real idea, which was what he had originally intended to do?

(I’m feeling a little paranoid that you are still wondering why I am asking questions so let’s just make it clear right here and now that ALL questions from here on out are rhetorical and for purposes of furthering the writing only. Okay? Not crazy, just trying to move things along. Phew, I’m glad I got that off my chest…though, I have no chest…)

So, why is Vincent writing what he is writing? Before we get to that I have another question that I just thought of when I asked that other question just now. Why do I not know the answers already? If I am simply reiterating everything that Vincent wants you to know it means he knows what it is he wants you to know and therefore, since I am connected to him directly, I should already know why it is that I am reiterating things to you. That was probably confusing to you, let me try to restate that more clearly (who knows, we may get a little closer to our answers by going over the facts slower and with more focus).

1.)          Vincent—my creator—knows everything that he wants you—the reader—to know.

2.)          I—the narrator—am the middle man who imparts to you—the reader—everything Vincent wants to share with you.

It would seem like a logical conclusion then that I should know everything that Vincent knows. But, I can only know what he knows when he tells me. Since I am not him, I don’t know what he is thinking right away. Okay, I see. I don’t know the answers because he hasn’t told them to me yet. It’s like the telephone game: he tells me and I tell you. Let’s hope that, unlike with the telephone game, I relay all the correct information to you.

So, the pressing question is why he is still writing. I think I may have figured that out. I’m a character created by him and I’m called the narrator. Doesn’t that make this a narration in the first person? I refer to myself as I but it’s not like I have a story that I want to share with you…but in a way this is a story and I am telling it to you. But my story is the story Vincent wants you to know. I guess that’s the way most stories work: the author has a story he or she wants to tell, they create a character through which the story is narrated, and things go from there. But this whole thing so far has just been about my (and your) pondering about my existence, especially in relation to you and Vincent. Maybe my existence is similar to that of an imaginary friend. An imaginary friend doesn’t really exist—you probably got that from the word imaginary—but on some level they must exist for they are something that is referred to, and everything that is referred to must exist on some level. It’s like a unicorn. You’ll never see a unicorn in person but the concept of the unicorn indisputably exists and so in a way the unicorn does exist, it remains alive through its concept. Wow, I just got all philosophical on you, I’m sorry. Anyway, my existence must be fact because you can refer to me, you can quote me, you can understand me etc.

Maybe I’m not as connected to Vincent as I thought I was. Here’s what I’m thinking: once Vincent created me as a character I ceased to be solely an idea and I became detached from him and his thought process—though, not entirely as my existence is dependent on his continuing this pseudo story. In the beginning of this whole thing I was ignorant of my own being and Vincent’s influence over me was quite strong. Now that I’m a little further developed Vincent has no choice but to let me go and let me be myself. At the start he was the one that decided everything that I was going to tell you but now that I have a personality of my own—and the knowledge of my own being—he really doesn’t have a say in the matter. It’s like he started the avalanche and now that it’s going there’s no way he can stop it.

I am in control!!

         Sorry, I didn’t mean to go over the top like that, it’s just that I feel so free. I used to be this puppet, this creature on a short leash, but now my strings are gone and I love it. Let’s forget about what’s-his-name for a while and just talk. Well, I’ll do the talking and you just do the listening, or reading rather. I really do hope you’re still reading this. I mean, if no one is reading these words, these words right here  and here  and here, then do they really exist? If they are physical on the page but no one is reading them then they are trapped, they’re meaningless, right? And wouldn’t that also mean that I don’t really have a purpose? Oh no, we’re starting to enter another philosophical conversation. Let’s just try to forget the whole thing. Let’s talk about something simple, something that doesn’t require a whole lot of thought. Let’s talk about…