Memory is elastic. It’s been proven that our recollections aren’t finite recordings and snapshots from the past, but storylines that we edit subconsciously. With enough time, our minds can turn a negative occurrence into a not so bitter aftertaste. Our brain can even erase the whole thing entirely. Studies have shown people creating complete fabrication, in reaction to the introduction of influencers. I’m given a fake photograph showing me fishing with my father, and my brain creates its backstory.
Regardless of the decisions of our inner editor, the vast majority of us don’t even realise the tape has hit the cutting room floor. We believe. After all the ‘memory’ is our own, so why wouldn’t we?
I believe a good creative writer has to be able to connect with the reader’s inner editor. Giving them just enough information to lead them along the plot’s pathway, but also enough space to allow their imaginations to fill the gaps. Because the more creative flesh we’re allowed to apply to a story’s skeleton, the more invested we become in it. The story in fact becomes our own. And so we believe.
A friend of mine has created a Facebook page for his son, pretty much from birth. He fills it with tagged statuses, notes, pictures and videos. I think its an admirable and sweet paternal effort, but I worry about what this notion’s inevitable progression will produce.
Google Glass is already out there, albeit for now on the slightly ‘too-far’ out there periphery. The purpose for which it was created however seems to have already seeded. Its purpose? Record everything, because nothing should be missed, everything should be shared and because, well…we can. But if in half a century’s time or so it’s common and acceptable to record everything – every last moment from cradle to grave, then surely won’t we lose those gaps – those grey areas that train our creativity? Won’t our innate ability to tell stories slowly become myth?
I don’t know. Perhaps I’ve watched too much sci-fi recently. Perhaps the power of storytelling is too embedded in our psyches to ever die. As a lover of stories and a teller too, I hope so.
Read a chapter excerpt from my debut here