I think I’m losing my mind. Even at the best of times my inner narrator provides an occasional play-by-play of my existence, but my current level of running commentary is reserved for the times when I’m almost exclusively absorbed in my writing, as I am now.
The source of this narratus intrusionous? I spend hours recounting the lives of my characters, and then I can’t seem to find the switch to turn off the narration. This means that I can’t do anything without a witness in my own brain observing all and synthesizing it into giant globs of first-draft text. Believe me, there’s nothing that will point out how mundane your life can be like having a blow-by-blow account of petting your cat or going to the bathroom. To illustrate, let me provide an especially riveting example from last night:
She pulled open the fridge door and scanned the shelves, searching for a snack. Nothing. The pantry? Still nothing. Perhaps the freezer would come through. Of course, last night the freezer yielded a half-empty bag of dehydrated peas and a frozen pizza, but there was always hope…
This commentary is disturbing for several reasons. First of all, I’m referring to myself in the third person. That in itself is a clue that I need to fire my narrator and get a new one. Nothing against third person — I use it in my writing all the time — but when it comes to my own thoughts, I should at least be the lead character in my own life. Which makes me wonder: if I’m not the one doing the narrating, who is? I’d like to say it’s a gorgeous muse with flowing hair and a benevolent smile, filling sheets of parchment with golden words. Naturally, her quill pen yields a graceful cursive and every line is poetry. The truth is more likely a cranky woman named Dolores residing in a shadowed corner of my brain. She has a smoker’s cough and the language of a longshoreman. In-between attempts to brush away the dust in the air, she bangs away on the keys of a typewriter that is at least as crotchety as she is.
Second of all, I can’t be truthful, even when I’m the only audience for my self-narrations. Sure, the quest for dinner didn’t stop with the freezer, but we certainly have more than a frozen pizza and an old bag of peas in there. That doesn’t make for good copy, however, so Dolores reworked the truth to add a little tension.
And, finally, it’s boring, despite the venture into hyperbole. Which is what I rediscover about my life whenever my inner narrator kicks in: There’s not a lot of drama, and when any does come along the hag in the attic actually shuts up so I can focus. That’s why I write. I get to give my characters exciting lives full of adventure and mayhem. Not that I’m complaining, really. That excitement often includes betrayal, war, pestilence, murder, and mass amounts of family turmoil, none of which I want in my own life. What I do want is for the voice to go away when I turn off the computer so I can have a little peace. <!– ckey=”2942F58A” –>
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77free said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 10:19 am
I love reading your words!!! They are smart and introspective.
I find as a writer its hard to turn off what we love. Its hard to stop thinking about something even after you’ve left it; especially since writing is so personal and we give a lot of ourselves to it.
Perhaps, and I believe it to be true -there is a reason this narrative voice is with you so constantly these days. Perhaps its training you to be more efficient and get that work done you are working on. Perhaps its a voice that wants to be heard in some form. Whatever the reason its purpose hasn’t been achieved.
By far, your life seems far from mundane. However, you just have to be a little more tough with yourself and say ok i’m not working, however when the muse wants to speak oftentimes as writers we can’t control that it will be a great time, we just have to give in. Once we do though, we just have to rapidly resume our normal lives or as normal as they’ll be being that we’re writers.
cde
patti said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 11:09 am
thank goodness there is another who does this…
allan said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 11:37 am
I enjoy my narrator.
Kristi Holl said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 11:39 am
I love your humor! Somehow, when I read my own thoughts on someone ELSE’S blog, it makes me feel less nuts and paranoid. You have a refreshing voice.
Jess said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 11:57 am
Hey, I like your blog template.
I do this! I thought I was the only one… not often, but sometimes I humor myself.
Sally Lawton said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 12:22 pm
Nice to see I’m not alone!
Thanks for stopping by my blog. I’ve very much enjoyed reading your posts
Manic Mommy said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 1:51 pm
Hey… Caryn…!! Long time no see in blog land!! Nice to see you again! Great new template, and looking forward to catching up with your blog!
Mizzz_K said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 2:07 pm
LOL. I don’t narrate myslef in third person, but I do scrounge through the fridge, move to the pantry, move to the freezer (that I’ve looked at multiple times since I last grocery shopped), on to the cupboards, back to the fridge… Thought I was on my own there.
Alyssa Goodnight said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 4:04 pm
So basically, your life is like the movie, Stranger Than Fiction, right? Did you see that? Very interesting… I wonder what’s in store for you.
Caryn said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 4:11 pm
Wow, thanks so much, 77Free! That really means a lot. And I think you could be onto something there, too.
Patti, it’s amazing how similar we all really can be, isn’t it? I, too, am glad not to be the only one with this problem.
Allan, could we trade narrators? Pretty please? Because I’m sick of mine, and yours sounds fun.
Kristi, thanks so much! And I know exactly what you mean, because I feel the same way. Short of that, I just blog about the quirk myself and hope that others tell me that they feel that way, too.
LOL, Jess. Back at ya on the template!
I like this one, but I do wish I could put my own up instead, or at least tweak this one. Obviously not enough to pay extra for the privilege…
Thanks, Sally! I enjoyed stopping by your blog and reading your posts as well.
Hiya, MM! Glad to see you around here again. It was nice to stop by your site and catch up on your life, too. It feels like it’s been many years instead of just one.
Oh, Mizzzz_K, I do that all the time. It’s especially bad when I’ve just returned from the grocery store. You’d think I’d have something to eat at those times, but noooo…
LOL, Alyssa. I suppose you could say that. I take it you don’t have the narrator? Lucky! And, yes, I’ve seen that movie and enjoyed it both times.
sarah said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 5:00 pm
I totally do this! I’ve always narrated my life within its own story. and of course related to stories I’ve read or am reading.
Courtney said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 8:33 pm
I like your narrator. Crotchety is more entertaining, I say. Narrate on.
Christina Phillips said,
Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 9:13 pm
This is too funny – I do this, but until I read your post didn’t realise it wasn’t just a perfectly normal sort of thing to do!!
Barrie Summy said,
Friday, January 4, 2008 at 10:04 am
Hmmm…I’m seeing a pattern. Many of us do this! I gather I also use hand gestures. As a neighbor was kind enough to point out after she passed me out walking! I like your blog.
Eileen said,
Friday, January 4, 2008 at 11:19 am
Snort! I do this too. Then I imagine how it could be better. “She opened the fridge door, there was nothing. George Clooney slipped beside her pulling her away. “Don’t worry my love,” he said. “We’ll go out.”
Caryn said,
Friday, January 4, 2008 at 4:45 pm
Sarah, good to hear I’m not alone!
Courtney, that is a good point. As for ‘crotchety’, that’s the word I was looking for, but I had to use ‘testy’ instead. Am going back to change it now! Thanks for the word.
Christina, I don’t think it is normal. At least, the nonwriters I know don’t live under such a, well, curse or blessing, whichever you want to call it.
Thanks, Barrie! And thanks for stopping by.
And I think you’re right; it sounds like it’s fairly consistent among writers.
Eileen, this cracked me up! I’m so jealous that your narrator would be so kind. Want to trade?
Buffy said,
Friday, January 4, 2008 at 7:40 pm
I do this same thing. Part of me is thrilled by it. Because it makes me think, you know, maybe it’s meant to be this way. But most of me just thinks I’m crazy.
Nice to know I’m in good company.
Erica Orloff said,
Saturday, January 5, 2008 at 11:28 am
Glad to know I’m not the ONLY one with those voices.
E
writerchick said,
Saturday, January 5, 2008 at 3:32 pm
LOL Caryn – you want what we all want. And yeah, what is up with that 3rd person narrator thing? For crying out loud. I’ve often thought that one of the reasons I became a writer was to give my narrator something to do and keep her out of trouble.
WC
JD said,
Saturday, January 5, 2008 at 10:43 pm
I guess I am still all by myself as I hear the soundtrack in my head as things happen. At least I haven’t got anyone telling me to burn things yet……
Does she finally find the snack?? And What was it I am hungry!
Bright Meadow » Sunday Roast: Nothing says you care more than some cyber-stalking said,
Sunday, January 6, 2008 at 12:50 pm
[...] god I’m not the only one with an internal narrator. I think mine is called Max. No reason, he just [...]
Caryn said,
Sunday, January 6, 2008 at 5:08 pm
Buffy & Erica, sounds like you’re definitely not alone, if the other comments are any indication.
LOL, WC. I know where you’re coming from. The only time Dolores shuts up and lets me focus on something else is when I’m writing. The day I start hearing, “She typed a few more sentences and then paused to gaze into space. What should come next? she wondered…” then I know I’m in trouble!
True, JD! I suppose the voices *are* harmless overall, just distracting. And you know what? I can’t remember what the character ate–or, for that matter, what I ate. I’m so used to letting the internal dialogue just scroll by that I didn’t pay any attention beyond the first part.
Robin said,
Monday, January 7, 2008 at 8:33 am
I must must must start writing again…