For a while now I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a short story. I used to write a lot of them when I was younger. In fact, until the age of 12 or so, I used to do a lot of different things. And then I discovered computers.

It’s taken until now, the ripe old age of 24, to rediscover my love of writing. I guess, until now, computers served a different purpose. I took them apart, and put them back together again. Programmed them, and played games with them. The only time I’ve really written on them, in a serious capacity, was for coursework at university… and that was hardly creative writing.

It’s not like I was completely devoid of fancy phrases for those 12 years or so. I’m a huge fan of oratory — delivering speeches and finely-honed arguments are both a lot of fun for me — so I’ve always been playing with words, fiddling with their placement in sentences and working them over and over until it sounded just right.

The problem with words though is that once they’re placed down there, on paper or out in the public domain, they’re done. They’re final! I’m sure you’ve all re-read something you’ve written a day later and noticed a few ways to improve it. I fear that if I was to ever write a story again I’d constantly be revising it.

I imagine that’s the job of most editors though, to prise the manuscript from the author’s umbilical, vice-like grip. To tell him gently that it’s ‘time to let go now’.

Without an editor, I find myself wondering if I could ever publish something I’ve written. I guess if it’s on my blog I can always go back and play with it, and force people to re-read it if I make a change.

In a roundabout way then, this is actually my way of telling the world that I’ve started writing a short story. It probably won’t be amazing, but I will share it with you when I’m done.

What I can share with you now is the way in which I came up with its premise: I wrote a 6-word story. Hemmingway once wrote a very short story — 6 words, in fact! — that read: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” Many other authors have tried to achieve the same kind of mystery and involvement in just 6 words. Obviously, as almost every other author pales in comparison to Hemmingway, most failed. But the idea is sound: write a story in just 6 words.

I thought I would do the same, but as an introduction to a longer (and short!) story. In a rare example of me being inclusive, I’m going to suggest that all of you try to write a story in 6 words and either leave it as a comment, or in your own blog. (And tell me, so I can go read them!)

My story? It follows:

Lightning struck; his plea went unheard.

Immersion is the act of being plunged, sometimes without us fully realising, into another place; another world. Be it via book, film, video game or any other form of media, our imagination lends itself readily, eagerly, to immersion in other worlds. It can be a very visceral experience, the new world plucking you from your present reality and sucking you through some kind of warping wormhole with a pop. Or it can be less obvious, the new world’s tendrils slowly creeping up and wrapping themselves around you until, before you know it, it feels like you’ve always been there — only you’re not quite sure how you got there.

And it’s healthy. Immersion is healthy. With immersion comes understanding and with that, eventually wisdom. When we’re immersed in a subject matter, be it vampires or the history of British monarchs (or the overlap of both!), we become dedicated to that cause. In reading a good book we often find ourselves identifying with a character and championing their thoughts and emotions. Hell, many people attribute entire shifts in viewpoint and way of life to books! The same can be said of films and video games too — if a book can be life-changing, so can a game!

‘Life-changing’ is the key phrase with immersion. When we enter into another person’s world — for that’s what we’re doing — we are assuming a new role, a new point of view; in essence, a new body. We glance around with the steady, fresh gaze of the newly birthed, curious and forever analysing. We’re actually granted a fresh set of senses which, depending on the story might vary in purpose or intensity — free, wild; sad, caged — but they are new! New, never-before-experienced senses! Just like that, the senses and experiences we carry with us in life can be dropped: prejudice, fear, pain, stress — gone. At least for a little while. Without leaving the library or even rolling out of bed we are able to live through a gamut of emotions and sensory experiences that might, were it not for immersion in a new world, go unused.

The problem, if there is one, is that that the virtual frontiers to which we are exposed are entirely governed by the author of the book, film or game. If the artist wants us to feel scared or fascinated or mystified, we will be. The author or director takes us on a journey, a tour of their imagination. We see and smell and hear their fears and torments, we feel their passions. We experience the joy, elation and pain of their first love, kiss and heart break.

It seems that, irrespective of how wild or terrifying or unreal a world is to us, we want to immerse ourselves. We want to be deeply involved. We want to be an important part of the world. We want, dare I say it, a world that can revolve around us — even if that world only exists in our own head, on loan from the creator and decorated by imagination for our own needs and wants.

You can be under your duvet with a good book and grinning like a fool or sweating and torturously scared — but entirely unable to put it down because that world — your world — would cease to exist, and you’re never quite ready for that to happen. And this is just single-player immersion! Some people aren’t content with being alone in these fleeting, imaginary worlds that disappear when we turn the last page or finish the film.  Just as sitting in your room reading a book or playing a game can get a little lonely: sometimes it’s better to stomp around a virtual, imaginary world with other immersed people in tow, with companions, with comrades… with friends!

And that is when you log into an Internet forum and find fellow Twilight fans. Or, if you have a penis, install World of Warcraft.

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More tomorrow on immersion for Thoughtful Tuesday!

If you’re reading this after midday, UK time, go and check out week 4 of ‘52 Weeks’ — it’s a good one.

[These 'thoughtful' posts are usually much more free-form and a-wandering than my other blog entries. You are more than welcome to jump in and finish a particular train of thought, or challenge something you think is false. This is as much about me getting my head around something as it is for you! You probably want to read yesterday's entry on 'Single-Player Immersion' before you read this.]

We know that our imagination is powerful — it is as powerful or more so than actual reality. Sure, it can’t physically take us places, but do people really claim that being scared by a horror film isn’t equivalent to being attacked by a knife-wielding maniac? (OK, don’t think about that one too much — just go with it!) And then there’s the matter of time-travel: our imagination can take us back in time! Through the media of books, films and games our infinitesimally short life-span can be expanded and extended to include different places and worlds from throughout history. Magical.

Why though must all of these virtual worlds exist outside the realm of reality? Can you imagine ‘losing yourself’ in the contemporary world — while reading the morning paper? No. You lose yourself while reading about the culture and creepy rites of Ancient Egypt. You readily find yourself escaping to alternate realities where vampires and undead exist, roaming and scheming under the cover of darkness. After that scene in The Matrix, did you stop to consider if it really is air that you’re breathing? I did.

Why can’t we be immersed in real life? Why can’t we attack and question our surroundings in real life with the same fervor?

A quick change of tack: yesterday, I mentioned how immersion can also occur to groups of people. The obvious examples here are table-top role-playing games (Dungeons & Dragons and the like), Internet forums and online games. This ‘multi-player shared reality’ is nearly always cooperative, towards some common goal. They take the same form as real-life teams and groups, only… they are virtual. Or rather, their sphere of influence is virtual (though their real-world impact can be quite significant too — some people get married in a virtual world,  and later in real life too).  The inhabitants of these shared, imagined illusions are avatars, projections of one’s self upon the fundament of a virtual world.

This won’t make a lot of sense if you’ve never been part of such a shared reality, but take my word for it: community and social bonds form a lot more readily in virtual spaces. It’s like… necessity throws people together, and somehow… it sticks. Not entirely without conflict, but generally these communities stick it out. This might be stretching it a little, but it’s a little like arranged marriages: you are thrown together, perhaps against your will, but for a variety of external reasons, you are compelled to try your best. Without other choices available, you are forced to survive and succeed (not a bad thing, really?) Those of us in the West look on in disgust at these teenagers being married off without their consent. We think our system is so much better. But their system does seem to work, no?

Anyway…

My point is this: if you think you’ve been immersed in a book or film or game, it is nothing compared to group immersion. It is nothing compared to running around with other people that also think they’re vampires or piloting the same spaceship as you. It’s nothing compared to working together with hundreds or thousands of like-minded friends in an online virtual world.  By sharing the world with others, your imagination is being validated. By occupying the same world as someone else, it’s no longer ‘imaginary’ or ‘just in your head’, it’s actually — holy shit! — real.

So what about FarmVille? It’s a primitive game, sure, but it is a virtual world; a world full of rosy-cheeked, benevolent farmers that spend half their time harvesting, and the other half helping out other farmers. The level of immersion (or ‘gameness?) is limited at the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the ability to group up with other farmers appeared soon. And that then is only one step away from building a town in the middle of a clutch of farms… and then cities and counties and…

Why can’t we be as immersed in real life? What stops us from enacting our imagination in reality? Is it just merely fear of failure? Or… something else?

I’m looking for a real-world analogy here, and again I’m thinking of the New World, America. A bunch of individuals lumped together in a new, harsh environment where the only way out of trouble (and death!)  is teamwork. Are we simply ’stuck’ here in the mundanity of real life because there is no necessity to try any harder?

I am just trying to work out why it feels so damn good to form a group in an online game and work together towards a common goal. I wonder why we so rarely do it in real life. Why is it every man for himself in London, while we readily cooperate in virtual worlds?

Historically, were we more immersed? When it was harder to survive and teamwork was a necessity, did we have to become more involved? I wonder if we need something dramatic like another war to force us back into our own lives, and our own world.

It’s amazing just what goes through your head while covered in sickly sticky sauce. As the chocolate syrup dribbled down my beard and over my not-insignificant man-boobs, I got to thinking about my blog, and what direction to take it this month. And you know what? I realised I haven’t really talked about myself in a while. A long time ago I did a series of entries designed to educate and elucidate; a series of articles that outlined what  makes me tick. And then they stopped. For no real reason either! I just found my thoughts being dragged in different direction, I guess.

I’m not great at talking about myself, you see. I mean, of course all of my entries say something about who I am, if you look close enough. You can deduce the kind of things that interest or perplex me. You even have a good idea of what I get up to: what — and who — I do. You know by now that organised religion irks me, that magic and technology amaze me. You might even have gathered, if you’re particularly astute, that I’m very patient and very deliberate, each and every one of my actions and movements measured to perfection.  In fact, there is only one way to really piss me off: don’t you dare do something without thinking.

Think before you open your mouth. Think before you strike another man, mentally or physically. Think so that other people don’t have to think for you. I am so bored of having to deal with the laziness of other people. If you just stopped to think before you act, judge or speak. If everyone took responsibility for their own thoughts, actions or inactions before palming them off to someone else.

Ah… bliss. A utopian fantasy.

Anyway…

Today I’m going to introduce you to my virtual book shelf! I know what you’re thinking: Sebastian actually reads books?! How come he’s never mentioned it before? You probably thought I was illiterate or something. Wel im glad too say im not!!1

I read. Not a lot, compared to others — and I actually read quite slowly, apparently — but I do read. I read for an hour every night while my thoughts settle, usually between 4 and 5am. I don’t consider myself an authority on the subject of books, and I don’t think I could ever be so presumptuous as to review another author critically, but I do know the difference between a good and bad book. At the same time, I’m usually that sucker that sticks with books right to the very end, hoping it will get good. Time and time again I do it! I should just learn my lesson and quit after 100 pages if it hasn’t caught my attention.

They say you can learn a lot about someone by what they read so, going along with the whole ‘telling you more about myself’ thing, I thought I would show you my bookshelf — my virtual bookshelf anyway. In reality, my books are split between the disorganised library downstairs and towering stacks of books in my bedroom, but thanks to Goodreads I can pretend to have a beautifully-tidy bookshelf. This is not every book that I’ve read, but as many as I could enter before writing this blog post. I’ll keep adding to it later — it’s pretty tiring entering every book in your library by hand…

(There’s a chance this looks really bad in your RSS reader, in which case you should look at it on my blog… it’s very pretty.)

And even cooler, there’s a new Flash widget on the sidebar so you can see what I’ve recently read and reviewed and rated!

This is the bit where I ask if you have any questions about me and my book-reading habits. If anyone wants to ask me about my infatuation with Terry Pratchett’s Discworld… please do. Or perhaps the colour of my obi when I dressed up after reading Memoirs of a Geisha? Which hobbit do I most closely identify with? How come I’ve ready so few of the ‘classics’, or anything by the philosophers of yore?

If you don’t have any questions, come and be my friend on Goodreads. Suggest a nice, fluffy, happy book for me to read next, after I finish Silence of the Lambs…

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read.
One does not love breathing.”

Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Gods, this is going to be a sappy one…

It’s the kind of sentence that comes right out of left field, right from the author rather than the character. Lulled into a false sense of security by Scout’s oft-inane stream of consciousness and then blam, the kind of phrase that makes you stop and think.

And then check your pulse. OK, still beating; still breathing, but stymied. And then your entire world-view shifts with a twang and you suddenly find yourself looking at your entire life in fits and spurts, frame after frame, chronology-be-damned — it’s not being re-written but rather shifted. Girls that I’ve loved past and present; places visited, visions seen; choices made, choices ignored, choices fumbled.

I catch myself when I realise I’m growing a little dizzy. Time to put the book down and go for a walk.

It’s cold outside. Perfect for the dissipation of excess thoughts and heat. I’m sizzling up. Why do some memories cause such exothermic reactions? Sweaty palms to my temples do nothing; I’ll just have to weather it out. Into the dark cool I tread, with autumn rustling invisibly all around I walk.

Eventually it settles downs. I had forgotten just how intensive epiphanies could be or how drained and dessicated they can leave you.

I don’t quite know what Harper Lee’s trying to tell me, but she’s certainly made me think. Perhaps it’s a modern-day retelling of the ancient idiom ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’? Is she trying to say that I should cherish everything I’ve ever had, or every person I’ve met and fallen in or out of love with? That I’m ultimately mortal and should live every day as if it’s my last?

Surely, if nothing else, she — Scout, or Harper Lee — is telling me to appreciate what I’ve got.

I’m only about a quarter way through the book and I can already tell it’s one of those books that, in the best way possible, and just like the lives of most people on this fair planet, goes absolutely nowhere. I think Harper Lee had a series of epiphanies, maybe in childhood but more likely as an adult, and now wants me to take a spin on her autobiographical carnival ride. I’m going to have to keep an eye out for all the juicy little titbits that she’s left for me along the way.

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If you can’t read see story above, you need to view this page on my site.

‘nother couple of pages to feast your eyes upon! If you’ve already read the first bit, you can skip to about half way down page one.

Some more info: this is a series of short stories — or that’s the plan, at least. Perhaps one larger, introductory story, and then short stories that stem from it.

As always, I welcome feedback. Also, I appreciate that this isn’t the best way to do ‘episodic’ content, but unless I hold back until I finish a complete story, or segment, this will have to do I think (unless someone has a better idea…!)