Writing Life – There’s Truth in What You Know

This weekend, I had a revelation that shouldn’t have been a revelation at all — because it’s obvious. But isn’t that how a lot of our breakthroughs are? We have everything we need, but we’re just not looking at it right? So we can’t see that something’s been there all along? 

I’ve done a lot of large puzzles over this past year, and I can assure you this is a thing.

My revelation? I need to write what I know.

It feels dumb typing it out because it’s an overused, vague statement for writers. And in some circles, writers are told the opposite. “Break out of your comfort zone,” we’re told.

But running close to those bold circles wasn’t the right regimen for me because I haven’t written anything substantial for almost two years. Instead of writing, I was waiting, hoping for something “new” to overcome me and move my mind and fingers like magic. 

Why wasn’t I sticking with what I knew?  

Because I was afraid to write about it.

I gave up a novel I’d been working on for years when my relationship with my now-ex-husband was ending — for real. We’d been grappling with challenges for a few years at that point, and I thought opening my mind to something entirely new in my writing life would help my real life. (Spoiler alert: It didn’t.)

My writing life is my real life.

Yes, I know the grim vibe I usually go for isn’t actually what I’m living day-to-day. But I always write feelings that are real. That’s the truth in fiction for me. There’s a lot I’ve been investing time and energy into over the past year thanks to pandemic and post-divorce solitude, and if they’re so tied to my day-to-day, so part of my truth, why can’t they be part of my fiction?

I’m afraid of the repercussions of transparency. I know the ugly side of the internet. And I don’t want to hurt people who have been in my life through the fiction they inspire — because I’m never actually writing “about them.” When I use real relationships or experiences for fiction, I’m writing to explore inward, to really look at my understanding of this person or event and bring clarity to a larger idea. I took a narrative nonfiction writing class a couple months ago, and I found the writing challenging. Does it make me more or less talented as a writer to feel the need to weave in a little bit of the impossible to highlight a particular emotion or character trait? 

I guess it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that layering the probable and improbable to tell a complete story feels authentic. To me. And I need to tell the stories that matter to me. 

I also need to write about my life in ways that aren’t as obvious. Life is more than the things we experience ourselves. For example, during the 2019 holiday season, at a parade, a guy dressed as Batman, gleefully waving to the crowd, stomped into a fresh, steaming pile of horse shit. And the rest of the parade following him had to navigate around the shit — which has to be challenging when you’re holding banners and trying to execute a uniformed routine. I wasn’t the one who clopped around in the mess, but I think back to the event a lot. Why? Why does a moment like that stick with me so much? What am I really thinking about when I think back to that, and what can I share about my life through sharing that story?    

I’m making “my great comeback” with new stuff in my toolkit, too. When I say I “wasn’t writing” for the past couple years, that’s not wholly true. I have been copywriting, journaling, and experimenting with content on personal social media. I’m on the verge of developing my personal brand, and I’m excited that I don’t have to leave behind my love for fiction as I plan this new phase of my personal and professional life.

Take a step back, and be honest with yourself. Is there a truth you know that you want to explore through your creativity? What’s really stopping you? 

Until next time!

– J. D.