People fascinate me. I mean this sincerely. I think reaching fifty and watching my twin pass away has given me a new perspective. Life is short. Don’t waste time worrying about things you can’t control. If someone is being shitty, call them out on it. Don’t be afraid to tell it like it is. Some might say I’ve never exhibited fear in that department, but that’s not true. I’ve kept a lot to myself over the years. Too much really. That’s why I write novels, so I can purge what I’ve repressed.
But back to my fascination with humans. The last two posts I’ve written had absolutely nothing to do with one another. There’s not even a thread connecting them (unless you want to count two different groups of women who need to find a hobby) and yet people see what they want to see. They interpret my words in whatever way suits them. And…I’m okay with that.
The written word is a powerful tool, or weapon in some cases. I’ve always known that. Words start revolutions. In 1776, Thomas Paine poured a significant amount of fuel onto the bonfire of discontent in the American colonies with his pamphlet, Common Sense. BOOM! A powder keg moment in history! And here we are, almost two hundred and fifty years later, a country in our own right, independent of British rule. But Paine was very pointed and direct in his famous pamphlet. He wasn’t in the least bit discreet. He used names, he laid out a game plan. America doesn’t need Britain. Break free of the chains that shackle us to the mother country. Monarchy is tyranny. America should be an independent nation. Fight for your freedom, America! And the patriots lit the torch and kicked some ass in the name of freedom.
I’m more subtle. When I write something a reader may identify with, I like to give them space to connect their own dots. In doing so they invariably read between the lines (inaccurately for the most part) and create a narrative that fits into their version of reality. I prefer it that way. In every book I write, I leave the physical characteristics of one significant character up to the reader’s imagination. I purposely don’t describe their hair or eye color, height or build. Later, when I ask readers to describe the character to me, I’m amused by how completely different each person sees them. They’re basing the character’s looks on people they know, who exhibit similar behaviors. In their mind’s eye, they see the person the character reminds them of in real life.
It's the same with song lyrics. Lewis Capaldi wrote a song (I thought was) about a guy whose girlfriend broke up with him because he either treated her like shit or didn’t recognize the pain he’d put her through. I knew the song was about regret. “Was there something I could have said to make it all stop hurting. It kills me how your mind could make you feel so worthless. So before you go…” I felt those lyrics and am not ashamed to admit I’ve shed a few tears listening to this tune. Turns out? This ‘love’ song is actually about his aunt who committed suicide. Really? I thought for sure I understood his lyrics, they seemed pretty straight forward, but I was reading between the lines. He did write about regret, but I interpreted his words through the lens of my own experiences. I’ve been made to feel worthless by certain people at certain points, so of course the song was about me! Or the universal experience of loss. Take your pick.
Regarding my last two posts, I’ve kept ‘silent’ about certain events in my life that have no connection to the ‘other words’ I published yesterday. The first was written with restraint because I choose not to discuss the details of the situation. I was feeling helpless and writing those words was an expression of my vulnerability. Yesterday’s post? The one about how annoying and immature a group of older women can be? I wrote that missive with abandon, sharing examples of adolescent behavior, not giving a fuck if the intended audience read my post. Actually, that’s not true. Hoping the ladies read it (they did by the way).
Two different posts. Two completely separate situations in my life. Many interpretations and assumptions being made. Again, I’m okay with that. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t continue writing these entries.
I’d rather my words not be used as a weapon. I prefer to use words as an expression. But I’ll use them as both when the occasion calls for it. I read something about writers a while back. I don’t remember the exact words but it basically said, be careful, my book isn’t finished yet. Meaning, if you’re an asshole, I’ll create a character based on you and I won’t be kind. I haven’t made good on the threat…or have I? Hmmm…a story for another day.
My bottom line is this: you are free to read between the lines of anything I write. You can connect invisible dots and create an entirely new, make believe storyline. I’m putting it out there, so have at it. But if you write a diatribe full of nonsense in the comment section of my post? I’ll delete it.
I hope you have a lovely day.
Sincerely, Jayne