Part One

“Failure only becomes real when you accept it.”

~ some dude running a pyramid scheme

Now that it is no longer an option, I have decided that I won’t be posting once a week for these past three weeks. Instead, I will simply write and post three articles of a thorough and elegant quality tonight before going to bed. And, thusly shall I avoid the stigma of not having completed my determinedly scheduled work!

So, let me begin the first article on the touchy topic of personal writing. I for one never really thought about this until I became faced with the horror of laying aspects of my own life across a keyboard. Nevertheless, it becomes important if one wishes much success as an author.

If you think of stories that you love, fictional or otherwise, you think of the characters that draw you into the story. Afterall, what is a story without the characters? Literally dirt or clouds. Picasso without his emotion.

And you love or hate these characters because of details. The skilled author has let you be privy not only to the smile, frowns, and actions of Tom Dick and Harry, but the emotions and weaknesses that in real life are only revealed by years of close friendship or enemyshipness.

The skilled author allows their reader to become emotionally involved on a level that some poor souls never feel in real life.

I didn’t realize this because, as a reader I’m not getting these emotions from a place of secrecy, vulnerability, or suppressed memory. It’s a story. Written out on paper (if a may be so medieval) and standing in the light of day. I wonder how one might go about communicating this to a reader. How would it change their perception of the story?

In any case, when I approach the same type of material as a writer, these are my vulnerabilities. The words become an exposé of my own personal hailstorm inside my own head, the way only I (or in your case you) can perceive it. Now I sound like a moron, but you get my point.

As much as you may empathize with a writer, the same emotional chemicals will not flush through your brain when trauma is incoming. As opposed to outgoing. So how to deal with this?

Never write anything remotely autobiographical. I’ve never met a problem that I can’t out run and this on is no different. Just don’t go there. Seeing as I’ve never done any fiction, I think it would be very much easier. And should you choose to draw upon associates for character profiles, simply protect yourself with this statement: Any resemblance of characters or narratives to real people or happenings is strictly unprovable.

Alternatively, rather than avoiding this problematic side of writing and avoiding the challenge, you can simply pretend that it doesn’t exist! What darkness? I see no terrors! It is sorely tempting and there is a huhuuuuuuge market for superficial gumdrops.

Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys are excellent examples. Perfect families with excellent report cards, unlimited cash, and flawless hair. Hell, I used to read them just for the fictional meals. And you know for a fact that, if you add a few risque scenes into the formula, you might could very well strike gold in this millennia as well.

But as a last resort, provided that all the above methods have proved insufficient to tell your story, there may be a place for raw uncooked emotion. A few suggestions.

First of all, I find that pain is best seen as the contrast through which to see joy. No one likes a Debby Downer. Once you’ve taken the step to write with emotion, I personally feel it wise to act with moderation. Don’t be a sop. Unless, of course, you’re a writer for the Oprah Winfrey Show; in which case you probably don’t care about my thoughts on the subject anyways.

Secondly, …I don’t know. My thoughts aren’t well ordered. I suppose you should avoid pissing off family and friends as much as possible, but they should have a sense of humor right?