Ever since I was a kid I've had an occasional narrator in my head. When I'm feeling particularly mundane I have the habit of spicing up activities like walking along a sidewalk or heating up a TV dinner by doing them to the tune of a string of words in the background.1
She continued writing her blog entry, racing the cursor to type faster than it could blink. If only she could push it a little faster, she thought, she might set some kind of record for the longest a cursor had ever gone without blinking. Words appeared on the screen almost faster than they entered her mind, but she dared herself to leave them there, unedited, for the excitement of where they'd take her next.
And so on.
So the movie I saw tonight was particularly wonderful, not only because the story in itself was an almost unthinkable work of both literature and film (as explained to me by my fellow moviegoer on the way out of the theater), but because the narrator used exactly the kind of words (albeit more eloquent most of the time) that I use in my own ongoing narration.
Go see Stranger Than Fiction. You're welcome.
1 Okay, so I've never told anyone that before. I don't think I have, anyway. It's just a quirk. Nothing to be scared of. But now you know what might be really going on when I look deep in thought. I might just be saying, "And she sat there, looking deep in thought but in reality only imagining how perfectly a pair of chirping crickets would fit on the soundtrack for this particular scene." :-)