In light of things...

I've come to the somewhat recent realization that my mother would never approve of anything I write, fiction or nonfiction. :/ Simply put, I like controversy and she's a prude.

I first thought about this several weeks ago, but in light of my upcoming publication and the work that is going to be published, I'm mildly nervous. She's going to read it, along with everyone else in my family, and so will my friends, acquaintances, and so on. Although the work is strictly fiction, I'm sure there will still be suspicions and accusations and uproar. (Or maybe I'm just over-exaggerating and everything will be fine. Hopefully it is the latter.)

Anyways, I think the point I'm trying to get to is that having people who actually know me read my work makes me uncomfortable. Because writing is so intimate, because I put so much of myself into my work, I feel that by reading my writing, there are no more secrets. Like people can just see straight through me. Maybe not all at once, but little bits at a time, like taking apart nesting dolls. For some reason, this raw exposure does not bother me with complete strangers. But with the people I know and interact with on a regular basis, it's kind of nerve-wracking.

Call me a masochist, but this degree of discomfort is one of the main reasons why I've taken a liking to writing non-fiction. It's a whole new degree of difficult, and I like challenges. The consequence of this, however, means being truly, one-hundred-percent honest. With myself and with my readers, whomever they may be. And while I do not consider myself a nefarious person, I'm sure there's plenty about me that not everyone needs to know about. Omission wouldn't do anyone any good. So I put everything on the page.

That's the risk involved with writing.

Perhaps that's the beauty of it, too.