Writing fictional stories is one of the generous techniques we developed together. We see fiction as a means to make theory tangible and concepts come alive. In our writing, we often personify concepts—transforming abstract ideas into characters that interact, grow, and reveal their dynamics within a story. This approach allows us to test and activate theoretical understandings while showing how ideas are never flat or isolated, but part of the larger structures in which we live and work.
So far, our fictional writings have been shared at lectures and symposiums, gifted to individuals, and published on our website. Many of these texts are homages—stories dedicated to particular people we admire, written as tributes to our heroes. The story below 'I rather be me' is the very first piece of fiction written. It started our experimentations to write more generous fiction.
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I Rather Be …
For Miriam
Monologue was soporific, listening was not his strength. So everybody kept their mouths shut. Self-reflection had been cut back, or better, had been bullied away. That loss was palpable, because she was the only one who dared to give Monologue some response.
The atmosphere was not getting any better. Everything felt a bit rusty and dusty. Publication had also heightened the pressure in recent years. Time and again he would drag her to the hip & happening places, where he needed to be seen regularly. A bit of an attention seeker, Rather thought. She would rather go into a situation with Profundity and Content, two dear friends. It was a shame they would often get buried in the company of people like Monologue and Publication.
Her relationship with Publication had known some good times too. Profundity and Content had often seen her light up in projects with Publication. It was a shame he had let himself get carried away by Performance Pressure, Measurability and Visibility, these worked up (fucked up) men in suits. They had become indistinguishable. They moved quickly and efficiently through the hallways and would interfere with whoever or whatever crossed their paths. The walls had become bare, the coffee-machines worked speedily at the cost of taste. Only their Instagram account seemed full of life and colour.
Within that environment Competition developed itself, a strange organism that had wriggled itself into the tissue. Publication had grown fond of it, a strange kind of narcissistic love affair. Or the way in which dogs and their owners develop similarities.
Rather avoided him nowadays.
She decided not to be sad about it. A couple of years ago she had met Publications little sister, a modest girl called Conversation who did not like being in the spotlights. However, she was very good in making new connections and associations and through her Rather had met an awesome group of people. Wherever Conversation appeared, Experiment would be close behind, and they always took Bubbles with them. Experiment was elusive and excentric; sometime Rather had seen her grow like a beautiful red wagging tail. Only last week she showed herself in the gorgeous red curls of Conversation. Both Profundity and Attention had a crush on her. Rather chuckled.
Mesmerized by Conversation and her group, it had happened, quite unexpectedly, that from one day to the next, Restart appeared on her doorstep. Rather suspected he actually had another name. But it seemed wise to accept this pseudonym. He was a chubby man with rosy cheeks. Or was he a fat lady? Rather did not know exactly, but she also did not want Thoughts to be too involved with him.
Rather felt the fluidity of Restart in her whole being, in all the tissues and even in the structures she embedded herself in for years. After weeks in which she had felt it expand and simmer, growl and crack, one Friday afternoon it finally burst open. There she was in the middle of the shards left from the spheres which had surrounded her. Some shining like stars, others dull and grey, most had deep structures, not all visible to the eye. Touchy-feely she carved her way through smells and flavours, savouring deep memories, colours she had not seen together before, all this caused by Restart.
In this primal soup she found Conversation sitting in a corner. She could not quite make her out, but she clearly felt her presence. ‘What a delightful work of art you are’ Conversation said quietly. Rather had never thought about herself in that way. ‘What a wild source of unlimited possibilities, as the fixed structures have become unhinged’, she added. Rather thought Conversation sounded a little too wise for such a small girl. But she had a point. She nestled herself next to her, and they sat for a little while, silent, enchanted by what happened around them.
Suddenly Rather stood up, thanked Conversation and ambled back into the tissue. She grabbed a deep-rooted ribbed structure and put the sweet smell of Thoughts over it. She called for Profundity and Attention, who appeared through the cracks, surrounded by the golden light of Experiment. New connections arose, put into work by Rather, more like an organism, autopoiesis. From the golden light a ghost stepped forward Rather had not seen before so close up. She bowed a little towards Creativity and at once she understood this bow needed to be for herself. She felt Creativity glow up in her heart. Restart had done its job.
Bursting with new energy she reshaped herself. Nothing was lost and still she felt everything afresh and valued. Her pores breathed Meaning which tried to stick to others outside of her. Maybe Conversation can help me with this, she thought. She must not run too fast, this work of art needed Care and Attention to keep its fine shape. She could invite them to dinner. She felt a glowing power and realized more and more that despite her glowing appearance, despite the inner stirrings of Content and Profundity, Experiment and Creativity, despite all this and much more, this is not about her. It is about what she could give, about generosity. More than ever before she felt far removed from Publication. More than ever before she knew what to do.
I Rather be…
Me