Putting It All Out There

Something came up during my novel writing session tonight and I wanted to explore it a little more fully, outside of the context of the story writing itself. Specifically, I found myself working on a scene that really, really struck close to home after some personal events that took place this past weekend. And, well, I started thinking: should I let those feelings, those thoughts influence the scene? Should I write something different, due to the fact that I can't separate myself from the situation in question?

If all this sounds horribly vague, well, that's intentional; I don't really want to talk about the specifics due to one of those curious little blog quirks that I seem to have: privacy. I mean, on the one hand, I routinely bare my soul here and talk about all the fucked up shit that's going on in my convoluted and often chaotic brain, which is a picture far more honest and intimate (I think) than what you're likely to encounter if you were to, I dunno, talk to me directly.


On the other hand, when it comes to external things, things about people and places and events, well... then I get shy. Because I don't know how much I should talk about those things, how much of a right I have to talk about things to an unknown audience. Surely there's a line somewhere, between what should be placed in a public space and what is put in a public space. Granted, it's a line that not many people observe, but still... I think that it's there.

So, back to the original question at hand: how much do I try to preserve the "story" as its own separate entity and how much do I realize that everything that's on that page is because of me. Every character, every voice, every line, every word... it's all me. It sounds so horribly egotistical, but it's true; any writer that tells you otherwise is either speaking artistically or dishonestly. I mean, sure, I'll talk about my characters like they're separate people. Their motivations and goals are not the same as mine. They're not me; I'm not trying to write myself into my stories.

And yet, everything that they do, everything that they are, everything that their world is... it's all because of me. It wouldn't exist without me, it cannot be seperated from me. It's all me. Me, me, me, me.

In that context, why shouldn't I write something because that's how I'm feeling? Why shouldn't I express the thoughts that I want to express, even if they parallel something outside of the story? Is that somehow being dishonest? Is there some sort of artistic purity that means you can't write about what's on your mind during any given day?

I'm sure there's an artiste out there who would say yes, absolutely, your art is sacred and blah blah blah, don't blur the line between creator and work or it'll suck, or something to that extent. Man, eff that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to write a Jack Chick tract here and convert my reader to my way of thinking, but the idea that you shouldn't put yourself into your works, shouldn't write what feels true to you... where the hell did that even come from? Why does it feel like that's the way it's supposed to be now?

Is it because somewhere along the line, we lost our nerve? We started getting afraid of what might happen if we shoved it all out into the open? It's already hard enough to face the specter of rejection; how much harder is it to be rejected or dismissed when the story is no longer just something you made, but something that's been made, in part, out of you?

I'd imagine that's a  very scary thing to face. So, of course, that's what I'm doing.