My Aunt Ruby, who’s one of my favorite people and a novelist and award-winning quilter, once wrote to me in an email, “I wonder if you’re afraid to write fiction because you don’t want to reveal too much about yourself.”
Hey, that’s not right, I thought. But, after my initial defensiveness, I had to admit there was some truth to what she’d said. Revealing your innermost feelings through your writing requires a willingness to be vulnerable and exposed, to put your life on display, to subject your personal choices to potential criticism.
I’m more comfortable conveying my thoughts and observations and opinions than my emotions or the painful times I’ve experienced.
At the same time, the geek part of my brain (you know, the very part that is analytical rather than vulnerable) is intrigued by the paradox that fiction might reveal more about an author than non-fiction. It reminds me of the Pablo Picasso saying, “Fiction is a lie that reveals truth.”
Writers want so badly to express something meaningful about themselves and connect on a deep level with readers. But many also feel the need to protect themselves and preserve their privacy. Is it possible to do both?
The answer is: Yes. But it isn’t always easy.
Writers take all different approaches to this issue. Some try to identify the elusive line between sharing too much and not enough. Or they turn their real-life experiences into fiction, where their protagonist is a stand-in for them. Or they write poetry that is so laden with metaphors, similes, and symbols, it would take a scholar to decipher the true meaning.
It seems we writers are in an inextricable bind!
By composing a memoir or personal essay, you’re creating an intimate relationship with your readers, and they expect you to be totally forthcoming—maybe more than you bargained for. And, in this uber-confessional age, even if you write a research-based self-help or other non-fiction book, many readers will want to know about your personal experiences and how they served as a catalyst for your inquiry into this topic.
Even if you try to “hide” behind fiction, readers and critics might assume your story or novel (especially a debut one and/or one written in first person) is a “thinly veiled” representation of your actual experiences and relationships. And so you not only didn’t escape them knowing about you, they’ve now presumed things that may be completely wrong and that, in some cases, you wouldn’t want associated with you! You don’t actually harbor homicidal thoughts towards your husband (at least not most days), you aren’t microdosing ‘shrooms, and you haven’t discovered that your mother is actually your aunt!
Some of my non-fiction writing students have told me that in their fiction workshops they assumed others would perceive their stories as not based in reality. But, apparently, unless the work is science fiction or fantasy (and maybe even then), some of their classmates talk about it as if it were the writer’s actual experiences.
Same goes with poetry. It’s a highly personal form of writing, but that doesn’t mean it’s always a direct representation of a poet’s life. In a famous instance, Sylvia Plath’s poem “Daddy” is usually presumed to be about her father for obvious reasons: the title appears to leave no room for doubt, the references to Nazism seem like a commentary on his German upbringing, and his death when she was eight was an inadvertent form of abandonment, presumably resulting in the sort of fury that comes through in lines like these: “Every woman adores a Fascist/The boot in the face, the brute /Brute heart of a brute like you.”
But, some critics have made a solid case for the poem actually being written about Plath’s ex, Ted Hughes, who betrayed her and broke her heart (and is blamed for her taking her life), or even her mother, with whom she was engaged in a lifelong love-hate symbiotic relationship.
Another consideration: If you write openly about your life, you’ll also inevitably be writing about others in your life, too, and here you’re prying open a Pandora’s box of ethical issues and difficult decisions I’ll discuss in a future issue of Page Fright. Suffice it to say now that this may be the number one concern I hear from my students and coaching clients.
And, last one…writers feel pressured or compelled to promote not just their works but themselves on social media, give book talks that engage the audience with personal anecdotes, speak at conferences with a humorous or touching personal story at the ready, etc.
For anyone who wants to write in a personal vein, it may seem like there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
So, what’s a writer to do?
· I think the most important thing to remember is that you are in control. Instead of finding the line between sharing too little or too much, think of it as defining the line that feels right for you and holding yourself to it. This goes for your creative writing as well as for social media.
· Avoid describing an event in your life in terms that are specific enough to pique a reader’s interest but so vague they end up feeling left out or distrusted by you. Better to decide a particular event is not for public consumption, at least at this time.
· Use your life as a springboard for fiction without feeling hemmed in by the actual happenings or people. Let your imagination flow in new and unexpected directions. And if readers make certain assumptions about you, you may have to accept this as one of the hidden costs of creating.
· Practice becoming more open and vulnerable in your writing, even in small ways. I’m not suggesting you (or I) have to spill our guts to our readers, but I believe they deserve honesty and authenticity. I’m finding, even in these pages, that reflecting on my personal challenges and being honest rather than automatically self-deprecating is satisfying for me and hopefully beneficial for my readers.
Are you conflicted over how much of your life and feelings to reveal to your readers? How have you approached this dilemma? I’d love for you to share anything on this topic in the comments below. Feel free to respond to each other’s replies, too. Thanks, as always, for being so involved and open with this growing writers’ community!
So happy I found your newsletter. Thank you for sharing this!
I like Emerson’s take:
“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures”
So interesting, Meta, that you tap into these dark corners we often repudiate.
In a novel I’m writing, I had to write a bit of a twisted, racy scene that was critical to the plot. I was conflicted on a couple of levels foremost that my mother might read the scene… I wrestled with that one for awhile;
the other concern was what would this element of the story reveal about me?
Would people perceive me as a a pervert? (However accurate that might be— ha ha) in the end I wrote it, I owned it and I think it was good for the story.
Perhaps fiction is too revelatory of truth. Maybe we can imbue fiction with truth by highlighting it with our own truths.
It’s worth thinking about in any case. Thanks for exploring another great corner of writing.