If
time is Schrodinger's cat (my preference lying in the quantum multiverse), then it would be linear only due to our
perception of it. When not observed, it exists in a jumble--everything
happening at once and not yet having happened. Thursday coming before
Wednesday, but after Tuesday (the Doctor Who wibbly wobbly timey wimey... stuff bit. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a
big ball of wibbly wobbly... time-y wimey... stuff.").
If writers do not create, if they merely see into a separate universe, maybe this is why so many do not write linearly. They hop in, they see a piece here, a piece there and then they must make sense of it. I hold myself in a universe, traveling at the speed of time, sometimes slipping through the path for peeks at what is to come, at what was and is not now, but for the most part, I stay on course. I must. I cannot make sense of time in its indefinite state, so I must travel it in the way I can comprehend.
If writers do not create, if they merely see into a separate universe, maybe this is why so many do not write linearly. They hop in, they see a piece here, a piece there and then they must make sense of it. I hold myself in a universe, traveling at the speed of time, sometimes slipping through the path for peeks at what is to come, at what was and is not now, but for the most part, I stay on course. I must. I cannot make sense of time in its indefinite state, so I must travel it in the way I can comprehend.
Then I wonder at the two states of writing. Which came first--the universe or the writer?
State one: We
are not the gods of our worlds, but merely the observer. The recorder.
We view what is and share it. This absolves us of the responsibility of
fate.
State two: We are the gods. Our observation of the universe creates it. We bring it into being as we imagine it. It becomes real, a separate multiverse; a separate dimension. The suffering we write, the death we have wrought--we are the instruments of it all. We are guilty, though still not responsible, because rather than ignorant, we are innocent.
State two: We are the gods. Our observation of the universe creates it. We bring it into being as we imagine it. It becomes real, a separate multiverse; a separate dimension. The suffering we write, the death we have wrought--we are the instruments of it all. We are guilty, though still not responsible, because rather than ignorant, we are innocent.
In conclusion to my middle of the night musings: a
writer is a powerful thing. Piss one off and your counterpart in
another universe might suffer greatly, exponentially branched into its
own multiverse of decisions that have been made and have not been made.
So, as the writers, we then mete out our vengeance upon innocents... who, of course, are
much less innocent in the other reality as they are or we have created them to be, the villain to remove the guilt of our construction of fate.
Now I have to go bed, but I thought I would share with you musings from other parts of my life. The parts that don't call me Mommy.
Um. Wow. I've been on the internet for three days trying to figure out the fictional realism thing with no luck, and you just blew it out of the water. Are you a genius or something? Seriously, this was amazing.
ReplyDeleteAlthough I still don't understand Schrodinger's cat- and I took psychology in college. :/
I'm glad you enjoyed my ramblings ;)
DeleteSchrodinger's cat is quantum mechanics, applied to a common object (in this case, a cat) to explain the indefinite state of subatomic particles. Basically, they exist simultaneously in two states until observed. It's a scenario designed to be absurd--of course no one would create such an experiment, but it's designed to be relatively easily understood, as opposed to explaining quantum states.
It's also fun to apply to other ideas :)