I’ve been thinking a whole lot about telling the truth lately, and especially when it comes to my writing.
I guess this has come about since I’ve been trying to finish off my book. It started off as an entirely personal piece, as I tried to work through feelings about the first guy I fell in love with. I guess I wanted to get it down on the page, to give it a proper readers eye before I discarded it as frivolous. Instead what I found was that I was capturing pivotal moments, a snapshot in time when you’re young and about to learn some big life lessons; lessons you won’t really appreciate until many years later.
So the story felt too big then, like how dare I tell this story, barely 30 years old at the time, still questioning what I really knew to be facts about life. But I didn’t stop writing it, and almost three years later, it’s about to be a complete thing, walking and talking and everything. Well, it’s talking, just to me, I haven’t quite been ready to share this draft with others.
But the actual process of writing it became a gruelling, almost re-traumatising experience. It was sort of like reliving a series of bad relationships over and over again, just to make sure you’re depicting it right. So I learnt a few things about myself along the way. That I can now step into and out of bad feelings and come out fairly unscathed. That now that I’ve seen what good looks and feels like, I have no excuses; if I enter into a bad relationship from here on out, I will be making a very deliberate choice to do that. And oh yeah, writing about bad relationships and then trying to embark on a new one with a new person, does not always reap rewards.
Also I think I’m married to my writing. Before I suspected as much, finding that it was fulfilling me much more consistently than any partner ever had. But now I know it for certain, and I’m not even mad about it. And maybe it seems like I would only like it because I am in control of what I write, but any writer will tell you, that is not 100% true. Sometimes you start the game of creation, but a lot of time those ideas go off on their own and show you things you would have never thought of if you were sitting in a room alone, without a pen or paper to write with. Basically I’m saying, writing is consistent but unpredictable, which is also what makes it exciting and keeps me interested. Potential romantic partners could learn a thing or two from it.
I guess this is my truth today – I’m in a committed relationship with my writing. We’ve only been exclusive for three years, but I see a long future ahead for us.