stories, my author
tends to do self-referential
ones. I obviously do not form an exception to this general rule
Alan and Bill were destined to meet from the beginning, and their meeting would change both of their lives forever.
But before this meeting was set and meant to happen, Alan had to get absolutely sloshed at the pub. Do you know why?
Because I am the author of this story and Alan will do whatever I bloody well please. They say that, in good stories at least, an author will create his (her) characters and from then on (in good stories) the characters will have a life of their own. Leading the pen of the author somewhat, so they say. Not true here. Alan and Bill do as I say, when I say. Although let it be known that the twentieth word of this sentence is the last occurence of the word "Bill" in this story. Given all of this, if one believes what "they" say, then one must conclude that this story is not good.
Isn't it strange that I, Shaun Thompson and author of me, have used "I" when talking about myself as author but also when talking about the collection of words which I am. It reminds me (Shaun) of a "quote" I once read. It goes :
"Am I writing you or are you reading me?"
A total fucking mystery.
I am a big fan of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., author of "Breakfast of Champions". I am a piece of "art" that was written by me at the age of fifteen. My creation took less than forty minutes and my intention was to convince my English teacher to award me a satisfactory mark. I was created in the tradition of Vonnegut's "Breakfast of Champions" which is alternatively titled "Goodbye, Blue Monday!". My name is Shaun and my title is "Alan".
I must admit that my previous assertion regarding the nature of the relationship between myself (as author of this story) and my characters was incorrect.
I infact meet Alan in a reality somewhere between yours and eternity. I infact meet him at the pub. Despite the fact that I am only fifteen, I am not checked for age identification, as just before I reach the pub the bouncer is overcome with an extreme case of heart burn and has to run off to find some quick-eze. I can no longer figure out whether or not he could have refrained from eating all of the bacon I fed him.
I sit down with Alan and skull my first beer ever.
Alan is fifty six.
"Hi Alan. I am Shaun and author of this story. I created you."
"Oh.". It is a good thing he is drunk.
"I am from the 'real' world and you are from my imagination. And here we are meeting in one of my stories. I suppose that is OK if you believe what they say about anything."
"And what exactly do 'they' say about anything?"
"That it is possible."
I get up to leave, and Alan grabs my arm. He says : "Can you do me a favour?"
"Can you make me young again?". I look at him. He looks deep into my eyes and says : "Please?"
And so I have decided that in all FUTURE stories, although not in me, Alan will be fifteen years old. The hypothesis, the sentence which is the 66th, 67th, ... , 82nd words of me, i.e. : "Because I am the author of this story, and Alan will do whatever I bloody well please", is not entirely accurate.
It is at least logically possible that I am good.