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The Truth
On wanting to be real on paper. On wanting to include all the messy bits.
I search for writing from flawed individuals. Or at least writing that doesn’t shy away from including all the flaws of the individual, of the individual’s life, of life itself.
I want to write stories and articles that will inspire others. But, the truth is, I find life rather more messy than that.
Is it just my age (51)? Or, is it a desire to be honest? A need to be honest? I want that from other writers now. And I want to be as honest as I can when writing.
Why is this important?
I know why. It’s terribly important. Because, otherwise, we feel so much more alone. When I read writing from authors that have it all together, I wince, feeling acutely how much I… don’t.
A few years ago when we were getting in the car, running late for school, I am sure, my daughter said, “Mom, you’re so not on top of things.”
It stung. I knew she was right.
Of course I want to be on top of things.
Of course I want to be more organized.
Of course I can do better.
But the journey, or my journey, anyway, is… something else. It’s still unfolding.
