Fiction is The Truth Inside The Lie
Why do I write? Writing, I think, is the act of opening yourself up to the entire world, exposing your vulnerability with the hope and the trust of being accepted, being loved and adored. I’ve heard many times that writing is “an act of love,” and I believe this is what is meant by that. It is not an act of love by virtue of the love of writing, the act of pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, like me), but rather the sacrificial, frightening and vulnerable part of love and relationships (again, and again, and again, and again, do it again). It’s the exposure, the terrifying degree of trust that is requisite for that sort of transparency. The unfortunate consequence is the isolation it requires, the walls that we have intentionally or otherwise — built up around ourselves. Writing is a struggle . Rejections, at first, are as heartbreaking as failed relationships. You spend a few months in this optimistic dreamland, you imagine a future with yourself and this bea