What I’m trying to do with my novel is transform my personal journey into fiction without losing the truth of it. Buddy is definitely a part of me, sometimes a part of me I envy for his honesty and courage, sometimes a part that feels dangerous and daring, someone who will get me into trouble. The names and details will change, Buddy’s story won’t be my autobiography, but it will be saturated with my truth. Truth that might offend, may anger, may confuse, but it’s truth nonetheless and I hope others will feel recognized and validated.
The challenge for me is not in coming up with the words. The words crowd my head at every turn, and the ones I’m not sure of yet will make themselves known when I need them. The challenge for me is having the audacity to write the words that belong in this story. Am I the right person for the job? I have to believe I am, if I lost faith in that for a moment, I’ll flinch away from the truth. The words are there, am I worthy of them?
Hopefully, by the end of this weekend, I’ll know the answer.
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