Writing is an invitation to connect

I write about some personal things on here, none of which are particular to me. Most human experiences are at least somewhat common even if the way those experiences are implemented is unique. This uniqueness gives room for beautiful writing and sharing some raw and soft part of you.

It comes at a cost, of course. Exposing yourself is hard. You feel vulnerable. It can alienate others. I write about other people on here, and sometimes those people don’t like it. I consider it an obvious necessity to do this – you don’t have to name names, but if other people are part of your inner world, and you want to share it publicly, you’re going to have to reference those people even if obliquely.

A girl I’m seeing asked to read my blog. I was surprised I hadn’t sent her the link, so I did, only to immediately remember that I had written about her on here... Nothing hurtful, quite complimentary even. But nonetheless the urge to edit the post, or take it down altogether, was present.

To get your merit badge at Inkhaven you had to write a piece in each of seven categories. Id already hit all of them except for fiction. I’ve never written fiction, and when I attempted it I wrote three pieces and scrapped all of them. (I asked Max Harms for feedback on a sci-fi thing I wrote. He said it was mediocre and that he looked forward to reading the next thing I wrote because that would hopefully be better.)

So I wrote a story that was very loosely based on some people I lived with. A couple of weeks later I got a terse message from someone who recognised herself in the story. The characters were composites, and the story was clearly fiction, but it was enough to trigger a takedown request.

I would love to say that these sorts of things roll of my back, but the message immediately made my heart race. I don’t like conflict and I don’t like upsetting people. But if people can’t draw on life for their writing, there’d be no writing at all.

The temptation to self-censor is strong. But consider that if there are some things you just can’t discuss, even anonymised, then maybe you’re killing some part of yourself in service of things being more copacetic, of being a person who expresses nothing controversial. These are life goals of dead people.

I don’t want to make anyone mad. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to take up less space. I don’t want to break the rules. I don’t want people to laugh at me. I want to be convenient. … These are what I call the life goals of dead people, because what they all have in common is that the best possible person to achieve them is a corpse.

All of which is to say: writing about squishy personal stuff can be costly. You should do it anyway! I’ve had lots of people say how much they enjoyed my writing, who shared their struggles with heartbreak and depression because of what I wrote. (Who knew that three people at Inkhaven had done rTMS?)

Putting yourself out there is an invitation for others to connect with you more deeply, to talk to you about more sensitive topics. It will turn alienate and turn off some people, but it will bring others closer. Perhaps this is necessary – much like how your dating profile shouldn’t optimise for widespread appeal if you want to actually find a partner who is compatible with you

And to you, reading this: I write partly to express myself, and partly as an invitation to connect. If I’ve sent you a link to this blog, or even if I haven’t, reach out if something resonates! Bring it up next time we meet.

You must show your soft underbelly to the world, and others will show you theirs. There’s magic to be found there.