The Law of Narrative Causality

I am indomitable. No setback can stop me, I can only be slightly delayed on my path to glory.

Mere hours after Cristina called me with her fateful news, I headed over to the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) meeting, only to discover when I got to the building that I didn't know where the hell the room was where the meeting was in. It was a very convoluted building, for someone who's never really been in it before.

While loping around the stairs with the vain hope of finding a clue, I encountered a girl who asked me where "Room E221" was. Of course, that was the same room I was looking for, so we set off in search together. As we looked, we introduced ourselves. Her name was - is - Dana, and she's a third-year journalism student, same as me.

When we finally found the room where the meeting was being held, we deposited our application forms and I gave them my $10 local fee for joining. (This in addition to the $36 national fee. This had better be worth it.) I heard Dana rummaging around behind me, to which I paid little attention. (Do you normally pay attention to what random people around you do?)

"Oh no...I don't have the money," she said.

And just like that, I could see the Law's manifestation.

A moment to explain, to those I have not already spoken to on this subject. I believe in a concept I call the Law of Narrative Causality, which goes as follows:

"Things happen, generally, because it would be funny, dramatic, or otherwise interesting for them to happen."

I don't know about other people, but this seems to apply fairly steadily to my life. To those wondering about all the boring times I've had and wondering why nothing interesting happened to me, it's because nothing happened to me. What did happen was usually pretty interesting, though.

It's sort of a Truman Show system, except it isn't one guy in a dome controlling everything, but some undefined force or concept. We're all autonomous characters, but events that aren't under our control happen for a reason - because it would make a good story. This story isn't to anyone's benefit, like some cosmic Audience, but rather simply because a story can exist in and of itself as a pure art form and contributions to it are only natural.

Do I really believe this is true? Maybe. I don't know. What I do believe, firmly, is that there are a lot of things that I don't understand, and this is the best explanation I can come up with to a lot of the stuff that happens to me. As I've advanced as a writer, I find myself able to pluck plot elements out of my life, like deus ex machinas (example, Victor appearing to me randomly and giving me a great story idea when I had none for my Reporting class), themes, plot twists, reveals, etc.

It probably isn't much of a logical leap to imagine God as the cosmic Author, but I can't see God endorsing a lot of the stuff that's happened to me, so that's that theory scrapped.

Anyway. After but a moment's hesitation, I pulled out a $20. "I'll cover you," I said smoothly. "You can pay me back later." As can probably be realized, this has two benefits to it:

1. I'm doing her a favor - it endears her towards me, and it shows that I'm a trusting person for being willing to lend her $10.
2. It virtually guarantees that she and I will meet again, and it's a convenient pretext for a date. If she stiffs me on the $10, well, I wouldn't want to be friends with her anyway.

It worked. She was all smiles through the meeting, and I got her phone number at the end as I walked her to her car. We have a lunch date set for Thursday.

As previously referenced, I am a dynamo. Mere hours after I had my hopes crushed, I rose again to the occasion. And I never would have had the courage or conviction to do so without Henry's philosophy galvanizing me into retooling my life. I may never be able to thank him enough.

Short version: Lost a girl, got a girl, fuck yeah.