Day 24

Sometimes I am like a dog with a bone. Give me something meaty to chew on and I just can't let go. Lately, I have been thinking about free speech and its limits. I'm not talking about the the finer points of the constitution. I'm talking about the boundaries that define our personal relationships; what we can say within and outside of our relationships and when disclosure becomes a violation of trust. Try chewing on that for a while.

As a writer (and trust me, I am still not entirely comfortable even calling myself a writer), my goal is to tell the truth. I recognize that the truth is the most powerful tool in my writing toolbox, particularly for someone like me: a non-English major with a limited vocabulary who grew up in the Ozarks, where English is a second language.

I do need to clarify one point. When I speak of truth it is with the understanding that truth is subjective and personal and contextual and ever-changing. I don't have access to any big-T Truth. I do, however, know what resonates with me, what moves me, what I see and hear and feel and experience. That's my truth. I have a strong need to speak my truth. I also have a need to be heard and understood, but that's a different bone that I'll come back to another time.

Sometimes when I speak my truth, other people are uncomfortable. I write about friends and family and people I see in the grocery store. Then I publish it in my blog, they read it and react with confusion or anger or hurt. Being that I am a nice person who wants to be liked (nah, adored), I am tempted to stop or limit my writing. Maybe I'll just write about people I don't know or maybe I'll limit my writing to only say things that are complementary. So much for truth telling.

I long to tell my story, but I have no interest in telling yours. I am not a gossip. If you tell me that you were abducted by aliens last weekend, I will hold that in confidence. It is your story to tell (or not tell) as you choose. However, if you and I are driving along a deserted road in the backwoods of Idaho on a moonless night and we are suddenly captured in a light from above and we are beamed up into a spaceship where our minds and bodies are probed before we are dropped back down into your Subaru Outback only to discover that we lost four hours, you better believe I am going to write about it. I may even include a few details about what you said or did. If it embarrasses you or frightens you or makes you angry when I publish it in my bestselling memoir, you are free to write your own memoir disputing the claims in mine. I support you 100%.

I recognize that you may decide to sue me for defamation of character or some such thing. But I hope not. I hope we can talk it out. I hope that I you will share your pain with me and that I will hear you and that we can support each other in speaking our truth.