Wandering ’round the blogosphere, I read an entry from one of my favorite bloggers, Fickle Cattle. Fickle Cattle anonymously blogs about life, love, being gay, and being a writer, among other things.
He had recently written something that struck me: he said that honesty is one of the things that makes for good writing. Now, let me be honest. I don’t say things straight to the point. I hedge, beat around the bush, mince my words. See, I’m doing it right now. God, what’s wrong with me.
My point is (yes, I do have one), I find it hard to be completely honest in my writing. What should I be honest about? My emotionally-damaging past, the guys I like and/or have fallen for, squabbles with my family and friends? How about mean thoughts I’d prefer to keep to myself because it would hurt people’s feelings?
Hell, I can’t even admit my own feelings to myself. I constantly keep up a stream of denial in the hopes that my emotions would disappear.
Maybe someday, when I come completely to terms with who I was, when I’m comfortable enough to show who I am, when I’m emotionally healthy enough to be honest with myself—maybe, I could show a hundred percent honesty in my writing. ’til then, I’m hedging, beating around the bush, and mincing my words.