Me and Not Me

When other writers write, little pieces of themselves must slough off and jump into the mix to resurface in words and scenarios that portray shades of themselves. I believe this to be true because I see shadows of me reflected in my characters. Shadows, mind you. My characters are not wholly me and I am not wholly them although it is fun when I find myself writing a familiar scene that resonates with humor or anger or honesty. Writing allows me to see moments from my life from different perspectives, with an eye toward caution or forgiveness or understanding that didn't necessarily shine through in reality. And there is satisfaction in finally being able to shout the words on paper in bold capital italics that I could not, would not, or did not say but wanted to. Writing can be cathartic but it can also be just plain fun.

Mary Margaret, my heroine from A Solitary Life, came into being very quietly. I was confused by her appearance at first, not sure where she was taking me. Like all of my characters, she came into my head very early in the morning. I could see her groggy and in need of coffee (like me), perplexed by her life (like me), but on a path completely alien and different from mine. She was, however, enough like me for me to wonder what my life would have been like had I followed in her footsteps, had I had her experiences, had I lived a life other than my own, had I stayed and not moved on. Those thoughts opened the gates of my imagination and led me, as always, to the land of What If. What If is a comfortable place for me, a land rich in possibilities and potential for illusion. Sometimes a story springs new and whole from my imagination but sometimes just the thought of what if takes me to a new twist on an old truth.

When a friend read an early draft of A Solitary Life, she asked me how I would handle the questions that most writers are asked: Is this you? Did this happen? Is this story true? My answer is, Of course not! but that doesn't mean that the experience is any less real for Mary Margaret. I want my stories to feel real; I want readers to feel the angst and pain and love and hope that my characters feel as I write them. To get there, a little piece of me must be written into the mix, to balance the fantasy with the reality, to temper the steel with real heat. But that doesn't mean that the story is mine. I'm simply the teller, the writer, the eyes and the ears and the mouth of my characters. Me and not me.