THE DOCTOR IS IN

COINCIDENZA?

I've been corresponding with my novelist friend A about some weird synchronous events that have occurred recently in our lives, and how they would stretch the imagination in a novel. Just one example:

Recent events in my life have triggered some disturbing childhood memories that I thought I'd dealt with--but there's always another layer. I've been talking intensively about these issues with one friend in particular, not only because he is an insightful and empathetic listener, but because we've known each other since we were ten, and he is familiar with the setting and some of the players. We've come to refer to the constellation of events and feelings as "Pandora's box," for obvious reasons, and also because the myth of Pandora was important to me as a child--the idea that underlying all the ugliness that flew out, was hope, the "thing with feathers." That image sustained me through a difficult childhood and adolescence and was pivotal in my decision to become a psychotherapist.

My family is addicted to the BBC TV show "Dr. Who," which we download and save to watch when we can't hold out any longer, since there are far fewer episodes than we would like. This week, after a day of discussion with my childhood friend, we watched the last episode of this past season. It involves the "Pandoricon," which I won't even attempt to explain except to say that it is a box built in part by the childhood memories of the Doctor's current sidekick, Amy, of reading about Pandora's Box. As I was contemplating the odd coincidence, Amy commented similarly to the Doctor, who turned on her ferociously and spat, "Don't ever believe in coincidences!" I was too taken aback even to communicate this to my husband and son.

The next day, my childhood friend adn I drove to Connecticut to explore Harkness State Park. As we zipped along the highway, I started to tell him about the Pandoricon episode. However, I only got as far as, "The weirdest thing happened last night," when we passed a billboard for a jewelry store captioned, "Pandora's box."

As my correspondent A commented when I told her about this latest weird occurrence, "Sometimes I can understand how a person could slip into madness, believing that the universe is crafting messages and meaning specificaly for them and them alone. It's so striking when these things happen, like a jolt telling you to pay attention."

I responded, "If one of my clients told me she was getting messages through the TV, I'd start thinking about emergency rooms, antipsychotic medication, etc. But sometimes this stuff is so over the top, so seemingly written, it's hard not to take it personally!"

But I know A and I are not alone. Perfectly sane friends, clients and supervisees have confided similar occurrences, usually prefaced with, "I hope you don't think I'm crazy, but...." I have come to believe this phenomenon is fairly universal. It could be that preoccupation induces a heightened sensitivity to certain stimuli, or it could be that the universe really is sending these messages--I honestly don't know. What I am aware of is that much of what goes on in my life, and those of many others, would be considered overdone in a novel, and outright lying in a memoir.

My question is, why? If we have these experiences, why aren't they considered normal, and why don't they find their way into "realistic" novels and memoirs?

Thoughts?

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D.,is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself,she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. She is the author of Getting Unstuck without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity(Seal, 2007). Her Career Coach column appears every Monday on Inside Higher Ed's Mama, Ph.D. blog, and she is a regular monthly panelist on Litopia After Dark. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Katharine Weber]

But these experiences do find their way into novels and memoirs! They are transmuted by the writing process into something that signifies for the novel or the memoir, perhaps as a foreshadowing or an echo with layers of meaning. Such moments are ideally blended in, not just sprinkled on top. It's true that not so many characters in novels say "Wow, this would never work in a novel," but then, not very many characters in television shows sit around watching television shows.

The creative mind is wired to perceive these patterns. The psychotic mind is overly receptive to patterns, too, for different reasons. The creative mind can hear a bird call three notes and then see three plums in a bowl and note a relationship that is simply invisible to many people. The creative mind finds this pleasing and inspiring, while the psychotic mind may find it threatening or burdensome or imbued with some uncomfortable urgency. Trust the strangeness!

[DrSue]

Katharine, those are beautiful points and examples. This is not exactly what I meant, though. Of course there are recurring patterns and motifs throughout novels and memoirs. But they're understood to be in the service of the story or theme, not ordinary expectable occurrences. When coincidences like the one I described do show up as simply part of life (not that anything simply shows up in a well written piece, but when they are folded in the way brushing one's teeth would be--significant to the plot for whatever reason, but also ordinary) they seem overwritten.

I'm also not talking about characters commenting on the strangeness--my point is just that earlier generations, for example, accepted the hand of God as a valid plot device. Acts of God also served other purposes in a well-written piece, but they were understood to be ordinary parts of life. These coincidences that so many of us seem to experience could serve a similar function, but they don't seem to be woven into narratives as themselves, if that makes sense.

[Jack O'Doherty]

Sue: I am not sure you should be taking philosophical advice from Dr.Who (especially the latest Dr ;-) If you're going to take advice from a character on a TV show, Mr. Eko from Lost may have offered something more fitting to your situation: "Never confuse fate with coincidence."

I am the one who first showed your son the new Dr. Who? If so, sorry

[Katharine Weber]

I think I am a little bit lost, but I'm intrigued. Maybe I experience coincidences such as you describe so often that they don't seem as uncanny to me as your Pandoras do to you.

[DrSue]

Jack, yes, you did, and you have a lot to answer for.

Katharine, the point is that these coincidences DON'T seem uncanny in life, but they do in literature, and why is that?

[DrSue]

Actually, I should have said that these occurrences DO seem uncanny to me, in that they're weird and not often accessible to rational explanation. But they don't seem unusual, yet if they occur in a book they read as tacky and overwritten.

[M.J. Rose]

These occurrences are at the very heart of my last three novels and the one I am writing. I throw a few asides out that Jung didn't believe in coincidences and admit that coincidence is at the heart of reincarnation. But these things are so prevalent in my life that I never think them odd.

But to answer your question - I think its because in a certain kind of mystery fiction they were overused and became the substitute for a smart plot - so they got a bad name.

[Katharine Weber]

I appreciate the clarifications.

And I agree with MJ, that coincidences have been used in genre fiction especially as a handy shortcut, which then becomes so familiar it loses its mojo.

Like "scary music" in movies signifiying that something is scary, music which on first airing in a concert setting probably sounded very different to the audience than it does to those of us who have been conditioned by the context and significance in those movies.

[Stephen Rogers]

Hey Dr. Sue,

Two points.

One, in mysteries I think that synchonicity is often used to explain how the detective gets a sudden flash that puts the pieces together.

Two, when these odd coincidences happen in real life (and I do jump on them), part of the magic is that the coincidences can't be readily explained. With a novel, well, the author made it happen. Real events turned fictional thus lose some of their punch.

Stephen

[Katharine Weber]

This is so interesting to me!

Stephen, thank you for that observation. It's like the way we can't tickle ourselves.

[DrSue]

MJ, one of the (many) things I love about your reincarnation novels is that the "coincidences" both deepen the resonance of each separate incident and seem natural and inevitable. I had not known that about mystery novels, so thanks, MJ and Katharine.

And, Steven, that's a fascinating point, of course we are "fate" or "God" when we're writing. Thanks!

[DrSue]

Argh, I meant Stephen, not Steven! So sorry!

[Stephen Rogers]

Hey Dr. Sue,

Steven? STEVEN?! That's it, I'm never going on the internet AGAIN. So there.

Now if I can just break my daughter of the habit of calling me "Dad" instead of "The acclaimed writer Stephen D. Rogers."

:)

Stephen
http://www.stephendrogers.com

[M.J. Rose]

Wait- we control what our characters do? We create the coincidence? They don't have lives/minds of their own?

[Stephen Rogers]

Hey M.J.,

My characters assure me that I'm in charge. Of course one then tells me to pick up her drycleaning, and another reminds me I still need to mow his lawn, and apparantly I'm babysitting all this weekend.

Stephen