An update on writing
When I was younger, and afraid of being seen, I wrote cryptic things that narrowly evaded making any kind of declaration. What I imagined was that these words evoked an esoteric truth that would draw the reader in without me needing to take any kind of risk of revealing something of myself that could be accurately seen, could be judged, could be ridiculed.
On the other side was the compulsive sharing of myself, writing long detailed blog posts about the minutiae of my thoughts and feelings, desperate to be seen, understood, judged, but kept hidden from anyone who might know me in my day to day life.
That wall eventually deteriorated. I leaned into revealing myself, wanting to make sense of my story, wanting to make meaning from my life that could inspire others. I shared my story freely because it was the only story that is mine to share. When I tried to tell others’ stories, it more often than not resulted in hurt and anger, and I avoided that.
This overlaps with the era of art and academia that put “positionality” on high. Where one stands defines what and how one sees. How can I communicate anything without clarifying where the lens of my telescope is positioned? For if I were to say the stars are south of me, someone in Australia might rightfully say, “What bullshit, this didn’t help me at all! The stars are north!”
So much Internet discourse is this kind of fumbling debate. It’s impossible to say something that can represent every person’s truth and reality. One person’s medicine is another’s poison. But instead of saying, “Oh, they’re in a different place,” I feel as though the message attacks me directly, and I must attack back. I must make the author or meme-sharer know that I have been misjudged and unseen. And then they must explain it wasn’t meant for me, though at times the audience is literally named to include people like me.
Recently I had a new idea for a book, and it’s very loud, and I’m taking time to sit with it that it may come into words. The last book came to me as a complete outline with title, which made it easy to propose before I even wrote the first sentence. This book refuses to give me clarity, it wants to be written piece by piece, and hopefully then I will have something to propose. Fortunately, the words are flowing quickly.
What I’m finding, however, is a return to not being the main character of my own writing. But that does not mean there is no positionality. I am the eye of the telescope that points to what I want to see, and the words reveal the world I inhabit, and bringing a reader into that world feels more intimate and vulnerable than all the details of my daily life.