Depth of Field

My eyes have begun to focus at 24″ and nothing else.

I talk to a friend on Skype and realized that this real, delicious, living, breathing form of a person I’m conversing with has been flattened onto a screen. She appears three dimensional but this is an illusion my mind has created, drawing on past experience, in order to make sense of a world that is 24″ away. Only 24″ away, nothing more, nothing less.

So too my novel is an illusion of a world that exists 24″ away. Because we novelists steal often and without shame from the world around us, there is an odd way in which the real world gets flattened onto the page, made into a 24″ away reality. But there is the converse as well, where the illusionary world gets tired of being laid flat on the page and springs forth, finding expression in the real world. While it certainly provides rest for they eyes, it is disturbing to a mind that is trying to keep some semblance of “reality” during this process.

Perhaps I should just let it go, let my eyes relax like into a sterogram, and let the magic pop. Be it real or illusion, who cares at this point.

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