There is no spoon.

Or is there?

 

Perception is reality.

.

Along those lines, regardless of what fictional selves we unintentionally perceive ourselves to be,

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

That’s the narrator’s take. But is Vonnegut speaking for himself?

EDIT: That’s Vonnegut’s take on the narrator’s story. But the question remains, and in this case, the question runs deeper. The moral is Vonnegut’s, after all. I have to ask myself what effect this book had on him—the actual writer, not the fictitious one, if there’s a difference.

And on that note,

do writers insert the fictional version of themselves into their work, or does the writer become what he writes?

 

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

4 thoughts on “There is no spoon.”

  1. I think it depends on what kind of writing you do. I knew someone who wrote exactly as she spoke. Reading her writing (really good writing, by the way) was like listening to her talk. You could hear her actual voice on the page.
    Me, I feel like my voice changes a lot. I wrote several things over a period of weeks that I’m not sure I could write again, because that mood and that time has passed. And the most recent thing I wrote reminds me of how I used to write before I learned how to write (which is my way of saying I don’t think it’s very good). Actually, I think writing can at times be a lot like acting. Like becoming someone else for a while. Especially when writing fiction. But again, it depends on what kind of writing you do. And what your purpose is.
    Whatever the case, it’s filtered through you, so it’s gonna have some amount of you in it. Could come as a surprise to someone, writer or reader. Or both.

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    1. It seems to me that being able to write well with more than one voice is a good indicator of an exceptional writer, which you are. Take Cat, my favorite, which has an entirely different voice than your latest piece, which I like a lot, too. Arrow is amazing, and it has a different voice than both of those. I like the mood of the lastest one. The characters act oppositely to how people would actually act in that situation, except for the one girl, who adds a hilarious contrast. The end kinda reminds me of the end of American Beauty, the movie…the part with the two kids, except sweeter.

      There’s a writer I really like who writes terribly. His stories are fun, morbid as they may be. English isn’t his first language, so I don’t internally fuss over the grammar. I like how he writes because he doesn’t force the writing. The stories come out all fast and flash-fictiony and juvenile. Like a kid playing by himself with action figures and airplanes. It’s fun. I picture this guy as an adult, but heck, he might be twelve years old. So he might write how he speaks, who knows.

      I don’t think I write like a speak. Though I’ve noticed a change in my personality since I started writing. It’s easier for me to speak with other people now, and when I do speak, the words come out faster and comical. I am becoming what I write—not that what I write or speak is necessarily funny. I just crack myself up.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ll tell you a secret. I wrote Arrow while very drunk. Put my head back against the chair and typed it with my eyes closed. I was trying to go for a stream of consciousness type thing, like a writer I follow does. His name is Trent Lewin, you might like him. He kind of just sits down and lets the wind catch his sail, so to speak, and it often turns out awesome. My inner critic often shouts down my “stream.” And now I’ve quit drinking, which is helping a lot of things, but not that one. So I must find a healthier way to go about these things.

        It sounds like you are kind of “finding yourself” through your writing. That sounds cheesy, so let’s pretend I didn’t say it. But you’ve worn a lot of hats in your day, and it seems none of them have fit just right. The writing hat may be the one to complete the ensemble, so to speak. And since the way we speak (or write) can change how we think, and the way we think can change who we are, what you are saying makes perfect sense to me.

        Speaking of hats, check this out if you’re interested. If not, no worries: https://trentlewin.com/2016/08/14/emily-to-the-surprise-of-the-hat-maker/

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I smiled the whole time while I read that hat story. That was a fun read! And now I have another great storyteller in my Reader. Thanks. 🙂

        I’ve tried the stream of consciousness thing, but I just end up doing what I do anyway and ramble senselessly without completing a single thought. I have to stop myself from taking off like that. Had to stop myself today, in fact. I have no real brakes, just an emergency one that makes me stop completely and tuck away the nonsense to pick at later for parts.

        Drunk writing can go either way for me, but I prefer 3-am semi-conscious writing. I tried writing with my eyes closed a couple times, and I enjoyed it. My computer is fussy, though, and if I don’t watch the screen while I type, scary things happen. You are crazy talented. The drink has nothing to do with that. Having your eyes closed, though, that might.

        Liked by 1 person

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