Synopsis:
"You can't alter history, even in fiction." --So says a self-absorbed writer who finds inspiration in the obliviously-uttered wise words of his reproachful publisher. There may be a larger story at hand than either of them realize...or, there may not...
The Abstract
"I love the beginning," his publisher said. "It flaunts self-awareness and is actually as clever as it suggests, when it could easily have just coasted through the otherwise predictable territory of mediocrity...which is almost everything in print. You have here some great ideas, but...there's no story. I mean, there's nothing holding it all together."
Daniel was entirely bemused. "You think this story is disjointed? But, you don't get the whole point of it?"
She shook her head negatively. "I guess not. That's what I'm telling you. I don't see one at all, and I'm pretty sure it's because there isn't one."
"Well, you're right, nothing is holding it all together. Nothing is the point, but only from a certain point of view, and that's the point! Behind everything, there is nothing. It's all entirely random."
She stared at him blankly. "What?"
He tapped his fingers on the manuscript on her desk, and responded. "In this context, and by the very fact that it's the subject of our current conversation, nothing is something. Everything comes full circle when it's confronted with its opposite...nothing."
"OK, whatever. Daniel, even aside from all that, you hint at only one character other than yourself. The publisher, of course. We get to know her a little, but only through the main character's description of her. Who is she really, outside of the protagonist's point of view? Does she really exist? Should the reader even care? She's treated here as if some evil corporate nemesis, as if we'll find out later she's involved with a secret society, or something equally sinister. We're told she's smart and distractingly pretty, but I think intentionally left with an overall impression of her seeming...cold. Perhaps unfairly so. She even oversteps her bounds by suggesting to him what to write. If she's really smart, then she would know not to do that."
She laughed, then continued. "You know, I wouldn't have been surprised if she started tapping her fingertips together behind her desk like this..." She mockingly demonstrated the gesture of movie villains, then continued, "...while saying something mysterious and cryptic like 'You just don't get it, do you?' To me though, she seemed to hold some subtle key element to...I don't know, whatever it is that's missing in this story. But it is missing something."
"No, it's complete. It is what it is. I think you see the point. It's just more simplistic than you realize, or want to realize."
Her features instantly became cold and nondescript. "Look, take it home, flesh it out a bit, give the characters other than your obviously autobiographical main character some names. Give them a reason to exist. Come back and see me when you've developed..."
He looked down at his feet and laughed softly. "He's not autobiographical."
She raised her eyebrows. "You gave him your name, Daniel Z. Schmidt."
"I know. Experimentally, yes I did. But that's all we share. He's a little crazy and over-confident, and I'm not. He's certain of a philosophical principle which he thinks exudes from every line of his work, and I'm not. He's indecisive about his current project, and I'm not. He's writing a story with a great and humble respect for the reader, but which can only inevitably disappoint." He looked up at her with an expression betraying his words. "I am not."
"I think if there's as much to this as you say, it's not showing. I'm sorry but what shows, at least as it stands now, is a story that passes itself off as cleverly self-aware but is really just pretentiously self-absorbed. I wasn't just trying to be nice...you really do have some interesting ideas here and a catchy beginning; but I'm sorry Daniel, we're just not interested." She tossed the manuscript to his side of the desk. "Please consider re-writing and come back to see me, OK?"
"We're not interested? Who's 'we' ?" he asked calmly and sincerely.
She rolled her eyes, equally amused and annoyed. "Me! And the reader!"
"But I can't re-write it! Not this. Everything written is fixed. In the story, it already happened..."
"No, not until it's published."
"This story has to be treated realistically. You can't alter history, even in fiction. If you do, especially here, then you've broken what should be inherent in the bond between reader and writer. Oh sure, you could try any number of literary tricks like...well, too many to name, some of them probably not even named yet. The point is that you absolutely must deliver to the reader what is promised in the opening lines."
"Yes, exactly! You haven't done that!" She paused as he narrowed his eyes, then continued. "Daniel, you know what a leap of faith I took in your work, which has paid off for us both in the past; but this...this just doesn't work. Alright, look. This time I mean it..." She leaned in to him and softened her tone, almost eerily so. "You still don't get it, do you? Well, I'll give you more specifics if you like. The dialogue isn't very believable. I mean, who talks like this? The whole set-up is basically a writer paying an ultimately doomed visit to his publisher, and they have a long-winded conversation about...nothing! Just waxing philosophical about self-aggrandizement. I get that it's supposed to be 'about itself' or whatever, but the story must have apparent meaning. At least, apparent somewhere along the line! That's the only way possible for you to build and sustain a relationship with the reader."
She sighed. "I can't tell you what to write or how to change it but...well, here...look at the title, 'The Abstract.' I mean, what the hell? That's the vaguest, most trivial thing I've ever heard. If you insist on keeping it, then at least give it some ironical substantiation by providing a concrete foundation to the story. That is, if the creative process is indeed its core subject. Tell us something about the story within Daniel's own, the one he's writing. Anything at all! As it stands now, there's..."
"...nothing?"
"Yeah."
Each smirked in their own way, having both been equally defeated and suddenly understood.
Daniel broke the silence. "Well, here's full circle for you. We're back to our first argument. What if there is no meaning? The main character..."
"You mean Daniel?" she asked, maintaining the smirk.
"Yes. He questions the very quest for meaning. En route, however, he finds it where he sought to disprove it. Then, the very moment he acknowledges his place in a story within a story by finding that meaning, it all...loses its meaning."
"A paradox."
He nodded. "Yeah."
The publisher unwittingly smiled at him, and he continued. "Maybe he wakes up at the end and it was all a dream."
"That's not a bad idea."
"I was kidding! It's a cheap and horrible idea."
"Well, you could handle it differently. You don't have to say outright that it was a dream. It's a mess as it is though...so the reader just might buy it."
He laughed even harder, then she spoke again. "You said it yourself, the reader would feel cheated..."
Daniel looked up at her then, as if in sudden realization of his place in the story within the story. "You're right."
She threw up her hands. "OK. Just like that?"
"Yeah. There is something else it needs."
"So, you're agreeing to re-write? That's great! Just give me a call when..."
"I need to add this scene."
Incredulous, she responded. "What, you mean this conversation we're having now?"
"Yes! I mean, it often takes a female character crossing paths with the male lead, whether hero or anti-hero, in order for his ego to be jarred or shattered. That's the only way his perspective will ever change or focus on his true situation."
"And what is his true situation?"
"He's forced to face a fear he was consciously unaware of until meeting her; that without her inadvertent guidance, he would be unable to make the delivery he promised in the beginning."
"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind, but I'd rather you not use me as a character."
"Not you, per se, just certain aspects to dress up the character. It's perfect. You already share what qualities the story does give her. Aside from the most important and obvious characteristic of being Daniel's publisher, you're distractingly pretty, straightforward, smart, and you gave me something I didn't think I needed. A new perspective. Don't worry, I won't use your name."
He rose from his chair and picked up his manuscript. She opened her mouth to speak, but was initially lost for words. She managed to say, "So am I to be a villain of sorts? Or are you going to just suggest that I am? The publisher, not me...per se."
He moved to the door without looking back, and almost indiscernibly replied, "Nah, it's not really in her character; but the reader should wonder about it at first."
"Daniel, wait. Tell me what you're going to write. What else happens? How does it end now?"
He finally returned a glance to her while opening the door to leave. "With me returning in a few days to smile at you when you say, 'I love the ending!' "
As he left and shut the door behind him, he woke from a dream about a story he never actually wrote and said out loud, "I hate the ending!"
by Darrell T. Smith
"You can't alter history, even in fiction." --So says a self-absorbed writer who finds inspiration in the obliviously-uttered wise words of his reproachful publisher. There may be a larger story at hand than either of them realize...or, there may not...
The Abstract
"I love the beginning," his publisher said. "It flaunts self-awareness and is actually as clever as it suggests, when it could easily have just coasted through the otherwise predictable territory of mediocrity...which is almost everything in print. You have here some great ideas, but...there's no story. I mean, there's nothing holding it all together."
Daniel was entirely bemused. "You think this story is disjointed? But, you don't get the whole point of it?"
She shook her head negatively. "I guess not. That's what I'm telling you. I don't see one at all, and I'm pretty sure it's because there isn't one."
"Well, you're right, nothing is holding it all together. Nothing is the point, but only from a certain point of view, and that's the point! Behind everything, there is nothing. It's all entirely random."
She stared at him blankly. "What?"
He tapped his fingers on the manuscript on her desk, and responded. "In this context, and by the very fact that it's the subject of our current conversation, nothing is something. Everything comes full circle when it's confronted with its opposite...nothing."
"OK, whatever. Daniel, even aside from all that, you hint at only one character other than yourself. The publisher, of course. We get to know her a little, but only through the main character's description of her. Who is she really, outside of the protagonist's point of view? Does she really exist? Should the reader even care? She's treated here as if some evil corporate nemesis, as if we'll find out later she's involved with a secret society, or something equally sinister. We're told she's smart and distractingly pretty, but I think intentionally left with an overall impression of her seeming...cold. Perhaps unfairly so. She even oversteps her bounds by suggesting to him what to write. If she's really smart, then she would know not to do that."
She laughed, then continued. "You know, I wouldn't have been surprised if she started tapping her fingertips together behind her desk like this..." She mockingly demonstrated the gesture of movie villains, then continued, "...while saying something mysterious and cryptic like 'You just don't get it, do you?' To me though, she seemed to hold some subtle key element to...I don't know, whatever it is that's missing in this story. But it is missing something."
"No, it's complete. It is what it is. I think you see the point. It's just more simplistic than you realize, or want to realize."
Her features instantly became cold and nondescript. "Look, take it home, flesh it out a bit, give the characters other than your obviously autobiographical main character some names. Give them a reason to exist. Come back and see me when you've developed..."
He looked down at his feet and laughed softly. "He's not autobiographical."
She raised her eyebrows. "You gave him your name, Daniel Z. Schmidt."
"I know. Experimentally, yes I did. But that's all we share. He's a little crazy and over-confident, and I'm not. He's certain of a philosophical principle which he thinks exudes from every line of his work, and I'm not. He's indecisive about his current project, and I'm not. He's writing a story with a great and humble respect for the reader, but which can only inevitably disappoint." He looked up at her with an expression betraying his words. "I am not."
"I think if there's as much to this as you say, it's not showing. I'm sorry but what shows, at least as it stands now, is a story that passes itself off as cleverly self-aware but is really just pretentiously self-absorbed. I wasn't just trying to be nice...you really do have some interesting ideas here and a catchy beginning; but I'm sorry Daniel, we're just not interested." She tossed the manuscript to his side of the desk. "Please consider re-writing and come back to see me, OK?"
"We're not interested? Who's 'we' ?" he asked calmly and sincerely.
She rolled her eyes, equally amused and annoyed. "Me! And the reader!"
"But I can't re-write it! Not this. Everything written is fixed. In the story, it already happened..."
"No, not until it's published."
"This story has to be treated realistically. You can't alter history, even in fiction. If you do, especially here, then you've broken what should be inherent in the bond between reader and writer. Oh sure, you could try any number of literary tricks like...well, too many to name, some of them probably not even named yet. The point is that you absolutely must deliver to the reader what is promised in the opening lines."
"Yes, exactly! You haven't done that!" She paused as he narrowed his eyes, then continued. "Daniel, you know what a leap of faith I took in your work, which has paid off for us both in the past; but this...this just doesn't work. Alright, look. This time I mean it..." She leaned in to him and softened her tone, almost eerily so. "You still don't get it, do you? Well, I'll give you more specifics if you like. The dialogue isn't very believable. I mean, who talks like this? The whole set-up is basically a writer paying an ultimately doomed visit to his publisher, and they have a long-winded conversation about...nothing! Just waxing philosophical about self-aggrandizement. I get that it's supposed to be 'about itself' or whatever, but the story must have apparent meaning. At least, apparent somewhere along the line! That's the only way possible for you to build and sustain a relationship with the reader."
She sighed. "I can't tell you what to write or how to change it but...well, here...look at the title, 'The Abstract.' I mean, what the hell? That's the vaguest, most trivial thing I've ever heard. If you insist on keeping it, then at least give it some ironical substantiation by providing a concrete foundation to the story. That is, if the creative process is indeed its core subject. Tell us something about the story within Daniel's own, the one he's writing. Anything at all! As it stands now, there's..."
"...nothing?"
"Yeah."
Each smirked in their own way, having both been equally defeated and suddenly understood.
Daniel broke the silence. "Well, here's full circle for you. We're back to our first argument. What if there is no meaning? The main character..."
"You mean Daniel?" she asked, maintaining the smirk.
"Yes. He questions the very quest for meaning. En route, however, he finds it where he sought to disprove it. Then, the very moment he acknowledges his place in a story within a story by finding that meaning, it all...loses its meaning."
"A paradox."
He nodded. "Yeah."
The publisher unwittingly smiled at him, and he continued. "Maybe he wakes up at the end and it was all a dream."
"That's not a bad idea."
"I was kidding! It's a cheap and horrible idea."
"Well, you could handle it differently. You don't have to say outright that it was a dream. It's a mess as it is though...so the reader just might buy it."
He laughed even harder, then she spoke again. "You said it yourself, the reader would feel cheated..."
Daniel looked up at her then, as if in sudden realization of his place in the story within the story. "You're right."
She threw up her hands. "OK. Just like that?"
"Yeah. There is something else it needs."
"So, you're agreeing to re-write? That's great! Just give me a call when..."
"I need to add this scene."
Incredulous, she responded. "What, you mean this conversation we're having now?"
"Yes! I mean, it often takes a female character crossing paths with the male lead, whether hero or anti-hero, in order for his ego to be jarred or shattered. That's the only way his perspective will ever change or focus on his true situation."
"And what is his true situation?"
"He's forced to face a fear he was consciously unaware of until meeting her; that without her inadvertent guidance, he would be unable to make the delivery he promised in the beginning."
"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind, but I'd rather you not use me as a character."
"Not you, per se, just certain aspects to dress up the character. It's perfect. You already share what qualities the story does give her. Aside from the most important and obvious characteristic of being Daniel's publisher, you're distractingly pretty, straightforward, smart, and you gave me something I didn't think I needed. A new perspective. Don't worry, I won't use your name."
He rose from his chair and picked up his manuscript. She opened her mouth to speak, but was initially lost for words. She managed to say, "So am I to be a villain of sorts? Or are you going to just suggest that I am? The publisher, not me...per se."
He moved to the door without looking back, and almost indiscernibly replied, "Nah, it's not really in her character; but the reader should wonder about it at first."
"Daniel, wait. Tell me what you're going to write. What else happens? How does it end now?"
He finally returned a glance to her while opening the door to leave. "With me returning in a few days to smile at you when you say, 'I love the ending!' "
As he left and shut the door behind him, he woke from a dream about a story he never actually wrote and said out loud, "I hate the ending!"
by Darrell T. Smith
