defying gravity.

Let me tell you a story…

This is the scariest kind of story because it has no beginning and no end. You can’t follow this story up to the top of an arc and ride the resolution all the way down. There is plenty of conflict in this story, but there is no pivotal moment of truth and as a result, no catharsis.

Can you imagine? A story that starts you in the middle, bad enough, and then leaves you there. This story is out there walking a tightrope. Look ahead: tightrope. Look back: more tightrope. In this story characters start out doing their thing, and end up doing their thing, and you’re gonna want to ask questions like “What’s gonna happen!?” and later “So what finally happened?” And you know what you’ll get? Radio silence. Because we only get to know the answers to questions like those in fake stories, sugary, melt-in-your-mouth, chewy-chocolately-center-center stories, blip-on-the-radar stories, put-it-behind-you-when-the-cover-is-closed stories, constructed, engineered, manufactured, processed, high-fructose, partially-hydrogenated stories. And this isn’t a story like that. This is a real story. And that: reality, is why it’s so god damned scary.

I know what you’re thinking. Fat chance am I reading this story. No denouement, no deal. I might as well read a book full of novice refrigerator poetry. How about the classified ads, there’s a story with no beginning and no end, should I read those for fun too? Hey, while I’m here, why don’t you tell me a joke, but don’t bother with the punch line?

That’s what your gut says, thats its first reaction. But what does its gut say? I bet your gut’s gut is twirling itself up in the shape of a question mark…it’s curious. I bet it’s squinting it’s little gutty eyes, stroking it’s gut’s goatee, and wondering what a story without beginning, without end might have to offer. Maybe there’s something to it, maybe there’s something better. If you’re gut’s gut is real perceptive, it might acknowledge that something about this story already rings a bell…”I know a story like that..I’m living that story.”

Something else your gut’s gut might recognize as it gets going is that this story lacks genre. Because real stories are too big to fit under a predefined label about “fun for the whole family” or “action packed adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat.” Real stories don’t line up like that. Because in the sweet little stories about the prince and princess, the parts left out are the wars and poverty, corrupt politics and complicated family relationships. And the action stories? It’s hard to hear, I know, but heroes have to sit on the toilet just like everyone else. They pay taxes and probably shop online sometimes; the coolest ones use Craig’s list, but still. They end up in stupid conversations about the weather, and most of the heros you know and love will end up spending several years of their lives, if not the whole latter half, in some kind of mental and/or physical rehabilitation center. You can’t jump on and off of a moving helicopters, trains, and hoverboards, without having to pay for it later.

The stories we’re used to aren’t real. Those stories are like a banana split after a delicious meal: we crave them, we can’t resist them, and they give us momentary pleasure, and we miss them later. Stories give us a rush we can’t get from the real world: they give us outcomes, the give us resolution. They give us clean slates when we start them and finality when we finish. And the reason those are so good is because we can’t get them any other way. Life has no fresh starts and it doesn’t resolve. Ever.

“Yeah,” you’re thinking, because I’m thinking it too. “That is why I read stories, for the reprieve. I have enough real stories in my own life, they’re hard and scary and any story that distracts me from all that is a good thing.” But what if this story, the one we avoid so often, is the best story. What if we’re just not reading it the right way. What if we’re spending so much time distracting ourselves with the what-if stories we’re not really getting the most out of this, potentially best, story.

We’re walking on that tightrope, and we look ahead and behind and all we see is more rope, which is shit balls terrifying. So maybe we should look somewhere else instead.Maybe we could try looking left and looking right, maybe up and down too, because there we’ll see other great stories, just like ours with no start and no finish. There we’ll see each other, and we wont be alone, ever. We won’t need a before and we won’t need an after because we’ll have a now, something we all can share.

Alright, I started writing today trying to brainstorm a really good story, and ended up much heavier than I’d intended (guess that’s my bad, for intention.) So let me end with a little joke my dad used to tell me:

What is the difference between a duck?