“Story-writing isn’t plot-driven, it’s idea-driven. And it often references itself on multiple levels,” says the writer. “’The Short Story’ is a perfect example of this. From the very beginning, the reader is pulled along by the writer’s use of self-reference. He breaks the fourth wall implicitly through the use of direct quotations that address the reader.”
The reader continues reading the story, at first confused by the writer’s unorthodox narration, but then enlightened as to the true nature of the text.
The writer says, “There’s more to this story than you know. But please, continue, because I wrote this story for a reason. I felt uneasy laying my thoughts down on paper, but I decided to do it because if I didn’t, this wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t exist, you wouldn’t exist. There would be nothing.”
As the reader anxiously treads from word to word, he gets a small urge to scratch an itch.
“The story is enjoyable, though at times obfuscated and tangential,” the writer elaborates. “The writer talks about the infinite regress that occurs when he discusses when the writer talks about infinite regresses. Two mirrors facing each other, an infinity of infinities.”
Curiously, the reader re-reads the last bit about infinite regresses because the writer asks him to, implicitly. Then he re-reads the sentence about re-reading the last bit about infinite regresses, and finally he re-reads the sentence about re-reading that.
The writer continues. “The reader still has autonomy while reading the story. He is able to ignore the writer’s suggestions, and he is aware of this ability. The writer’s goal is to convince the reader that the writer’s world is his own. This can be difficult because acknowledging the reader’s existence can bring him out of the story. However, the writer is not hoping to suck the reader into the world of the writer, but rather to show the reader that the world of the writer already exists in his own world. They are one and the same.”
Although the writer seems relatively coherent, the reader is unsure of what to make of the story. But there’s no way he is going to stop reading now; the reader feels obligated to keep going.
“The reader thinks about the story but also about himself, and about the writer,” says the writer. “Intermittently, the reader thinks about random things that are unrelated to the story, like something that the writer doesn’t describe. But most often, while going through the story, the reader thinks about things that are related to it, or about the story itself.”
The reader stops reading what the writer says, and then starts reading it again.
“The plot in the story is limited,” says the writer, “but it is enough to convey a message and hint at larger themes, many of which are rife with plots of their own. In effect, the plot of the story is limited to the imagination of the writer and the reader, working together to create meaning. The story does not exist in a vacuum, solely to analyze its imagery in relation to its characters.”
The reader will more clearly understand the writer with the use of a familiar example.
“Two mirrors facing each other form a closed circuit on the outside, but contain immeasurable possibility within. The reader and the writer can be interpreted similarly, reflecting each other to the point where they are inseparable – their worlds collide. Eventually, the mirrors become mere containers for creative light, bouncing forever and wherever as the radiation transcends its original dichotomy.”
This text is starting to seem more poetic to the reader, who is more comfortable now (than in the near future) because of his increased grasp of the story.
“He is able to float through sentences with cruise control retinas, somewhat unaware of the aforementioned, currently-involved nuisances, because of his familiarity with the story.” Even the title “The Short Story” now resides in the front of the reader’s concentration, because it was mentioned again.
You are going to die.
