Honesty

Most writers have probably already discovered and accepted the fact that in order to be a good writer, in order to really say what people want to read, you have to be willing to say what they are thinking. This inevitably means that you have to say what you are thinking and ultimately someone is going to get hurt. I pussy foot around a lot of writing because the things I want to say, the things that people want to read are things that nobody wants to think about or admit to themselves. Writing is the physical equivalent to standing stark naked in all of your flawed glory with a kool aid smile plastered across your face in Time Square.

Anyone who has known me for long enough has figured out that although I seem open on first meeting, I'm probably one of the most emotionally guarded people that they will ever have the pleasure of meeting. I once had a guy I was dating tell me that dating me was like trying to scale the Great Wall of China. You can feel sorry for my husband, he deserves it! Anyway, I'm moving away from my point.

Writing, at least writing well requires a level of exposition that is just a little bit terrifying. I am learning that writing fiction is not any easier because the fiction is mixed with the truth about me and the mixture of the two has the potential to be highly volatile. People are going to twist the truth and the fiction it will be hard to tell what is me and what is my imagination. I mostly worry about this with my husband. Which is why he has yet to read my almost finished novel. I'm not even sure that he will ever be allowed to read it. Then again writing is how us emotionally challenged people are able to participate in the world around us. Hiding the finished product from the world would be pointless and yet, I'm just a little bit scared. Okay maybe petrified.