Here, on imitative fallacy, it is this: the mistaken notion that creating the feeling in the reader that is the same as the feeling in the character is the worthy intention of a story. That is my loose paraphrase of what is probably a lot of technical ancient Greek.  Which means, we create an imitation of life, not a story.  So, for example–if the character is bored, you bore the reader.  Or the character is confused, you confuse the reader. Those are examples on the micro level but there are examples on the macro level that are even more far reaching and important, and might be for your piece.

On the macro level any story will suggest a problem. That problem always rests with the main character.  This is why they are tested.  This is why they dig deep.  This is why they experience change. But many stories will refuse to deal with the problem they’ve presented.  This is a curious little issue we writers have, particularly when we write about ourselves or base characters on ourselves, because we don’t see the problem that our character has, which is another way of saying we don’t really see the story.  So what this means, in terms of imitative fallacy is this: we have a character who is afraid to look at her/his problem.  And we have a story that is afraid to look at the character’s problem too.  Further reduced: The character is obtuse. All characters are (because they exist in an unenlightened state) and the story (the narrator, the author) is obtuse too. The experience for the reader is an unexamined character–but constructing a story is done with just that objective in mind, examining character   This is huge.  Worth pondering for us all.

Another macro imitative fallacy is this: life doesn’t mean anything and my story doesn’t either. Having a story that doesn’t mean anything means you don’t have a story.

(Note: post modern stories examine themselves rather than character).