Taking off My Mask

Hooray! I reached a milestone with my latest work. Chapter Twenty is written.

The halfway point.

You know, sometimes writing is a pleasure. Like this morning.

I woke up at 5 am. Worked on a couple of critiques for my writer's group, then went back to bed for a couple hours.

Woke up again at 8 am. Made myself some coffee and sat down at the desk. I had no idea what this chapter would be about. So, I read the last few dozen pages and as I did, it came to me what needed to be next.

And then, I wrote it. It's not the most rivoting of chapters. Kind of just a neccessary bridge. But there was enough conflict and one raw moment, where I was able to take off my mask and be veracious.

Even though the soul bearing moment wasn't mine, it was my main character's, I had to feel it with her and draw on a similar experience. Relive it. Open an old wound. Bleed.

And that's a good thing because what readers really want is truth, not a watered down version. They want to know they're normal. Others have been where they've been. Done what they've done. Felt what they've felt.

We all wear masks that hide who we really are. I wear the mask of having it all together. Knowing a lot. But behind the mask is someone quite insecure and vulnerable. Only a few people ever get to see that side of me. But, my readers should, through my characters.

So, I'm proud that I got to be honest with my words and let down the mask, even though I hid behind my fictional character to do it.

That was one of those rare magical moments in writing. I hope when others read it, it will drudge up their vulnerable moment too and make them remember, make them think, but above all, make them feel.

The books that are best loved are ones that make the reader experience the emotions of the characters. Even if the emotion is pain: think, Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas.

Great book, by the way.