Take a moment and think about your day so far. Now, if you had to give it a title, what would the “story of your day” be? Is it a drama, full of unexpected challenges? A comedy of errors? A quiet, reflective piece? The very fact that you can answer this question points to a profound truth about the human mind: we are natural-born storytellers. We live in a world not of raw data, but of narrative.

This is the core idea behind narrative psychology—the concept that we interpret our lives through a story-like lens. We string together events, assign motivations, and create a plot. These internal stories are perhaps the single most powerful force shaping our perception of reality.

Your Constant Internal Narrator

From the moment we wake up, a narrator in our mind gets to work. It’s a constant, running commentary that seeks to make sense of the world, assigning cause and effect to create a coherent plot for our lives. This narrator is essential. It turns the chaos of life into an understandable sequence.

But the story it tells is highly subjective. Imagine two people on the same flight that gets delayed by an hour. For one person, the internal narrator screams, “This is a disaster! My whole trip is ruined!” They experience the delay as a tragedy. For the second person, the narrator calmly suggests, “Well, this is unexpected. Great, more time to finish my book.” They experience the same event as a minor inconvenience, or even an opportunity. Same facts, different stories, completely different realities. As a Perceptionist, I’ve learned to listen for the subtle cues of this internal narrator; it’s the fastest way to understand a person’s worldview.

The Unreliable Narrator

Just like in literature, our internal narrator is not always reliable. It has its own biases, moods, and deep-seated beliefs that color the story it tells. It is fundamentally loyal to our own point of view. It will conveniently edit out details that contradict our beliefs and highlight evidence that supports them.

My “Closed Time Loop” effect is a playful exploration of this unreliability. It sets up a story that appears to be simple and predictable. The audience forms a narrative in their minds about what’s happening and where it’s headed. When the ending is suddenly and impossibly rewritten, it does more than just surprise—it forces a brief, wonderful moment of questioning the story we thought we were in. The art of a Perceptionist often involves gently highlighting the unreliability of our own narratives, not to prove us wrong, but to open up a small space for wonder.

Rewriting the Script

Here is the most exciting part: if we are living in a story of our own making, we have the power to change it. We are not just the readers of our life’s story; we are also the authors.

This is why effects built around childhood or nostalgia can be so powerful. They tap into a shared, foundational story—a nostalgic feeling we all understand. By building an experience on that common ground, a performer can create a moment where the “script” of reality seems to bend, leading to a conclusion that is impossible, yet feels emotionally true and deeply satisfying. The goal is never to prove the narrator wrong. It’s to offer a different, more wondrous chapter to the story, even if only for a moment.

What’s Your Story?

You are an author, and the story of your life is your masterpiece, constantly being written and revised. A Perceptionist doesn’t read minds; we read stories. And by understanding the story in your head, we can help to create moments that feel like they were written just for you.

So, ask yourself: What story are you telling yourself about your life today? And what would happen if you decided to change just a single word?

Internal Links: Is Your Memory Real? The Malleable Nature of Personal History, The Unseen Script: How Our Minds Follow Pre-Written Narratives

External Link: A deeper dive into narrative psychology from the American Psychological Association