I was in the pub after at my writer’s circle this week and one of the members made an observation. I never reveal myself in my fiction. She does, automatically. Her novel in-in-progress grows organically out of her life and it is very funny and touching for it.
Out of the ten of us, we decided that about half write fiction that reveals what’s inside.
This blog, unlike most blogs, has always very deliberately been about reading, not about me. It would be a new idea to write about my ‘real’ life, my job (the biggest taboo) or my artistic projects in a detailed way. I’m not sure I’m ready to get into the minutiae of my life. It can be boring even for the most interested participant but maybe I don’t have to leave myself out entirely.
I recently submitted a story to a lit magazine which was based on an incident in my life. I seldom have especially dangerous or exciting things happen to me but this was an exception that demanded to be written. Since then I have decided to challenge myself to write another story based at least on some of my own feelings and experiences.
Happy reading.