When it comes to sharing what we write there is a whole range of emotions that can stampede through a writer, all of them their own breed of panicked animal. I have overcome the initial sense of dread that first marred the prospect of someone else reading my words. After all they came from within my head, a place where I normally do not even let those closest to me in.
Recently, I linked I my blog to Facebook and now that I look back I have to admit that I have been pulling my punches, so to speak. Why? If I am honest, there are still things that tend to sneak its way into my fiction that would probably provoke a couple of awkward conversations. Then again, perhaps it is just the ghost of doubt in my head that’s warping my expectations. The issue, lies In the fact that in order to write something I first have to think it, visualise it, synthesise the emotions. Which is no big deal until the antagonist of any story is introduced. Perhaps that is why I kept my fiction at arm’s length from e.g. my family. I don’t fancy another round of “I am not the stories I write. It’s fiction.”
But if I pull my punches just because striking a nerve or two might spawn some awkwardness I am not giving my writing everything it deserves. For me writing is something raw mind unbridled, it is tapping into something primal and extremely satisfying, but sometimes equally disturbing. But fuck it. A little crazy might not an author make, but it certainly makes writing a lot more interesting.