Just Because You Write it Doesn't Mean You Feel It

Over the past couple months as I've been re-reading the things I've written to decide what to work on, sometimes I wonder about what people will think.  Not worrying about what people will the of the book (at least most of the time), but occasionally worrying about what specific people might think about specific events, characters, or who has died.  I'm sure this is something that every writer worries about at some point.

Last weekend, I went to my writing critique group.  One of the pieces shared by one of the ladies was about a serial killer who had killed several girls, but who was now starting to fall in love (or at least his version of love) with the one girl he had let get away.  The story was narrated from the killer's point of view, which gave us a great insight into his twisted mind.  He describes why he is making a facial expression and what emotional reaction he hopes to illicit from the person he's talking to.  He feels that he deserves a special reward for not killing that last girl.  He also reflects that if things don't work out between the two of them that the easiest solution would be to just kill her after all.  These are not the thoughts of a normal person (and I'm not presenting them here in a way that does justice to the author's writing).

We praised the author for these disturbing but very well-written glimpses into the character's psyche.  Was this author a troubled millennial who felt the world revolved around them?  Was the author a dangerous-looking man with a heavy metal t-shirt an bothersome bumper stickers on his intimidating car?  No.  The author is, as best I can tell from my interactions with her, a sweet, well-dressed lady in her late 60's or early 70's.

I will say again, we praised her for her writing.  Each person at the critique spoke at length about how strong and well-developed the character was, and how enjoyable (though creepy) it was getting into his mind.  One other participant, also an older, well-dressed lady, said, "I never read this kind of stuff - but I would read this!"

And yet our author, throughout the critique process and after, expressed concern that she had "gone too far."  She was worried about what people would think not about the writing, but about her as a person.  

I guess this is something that all authors - especially the ones that write serial killers, kill off characters, or just generally write dark, scary, or violent stuff - worry about at some point.  But just because you write it doesn't mean you feel it.  Just because you write it doesn't mean you have done, will do, or even want to do it.  I'm pretty sure Poe never hacked up his neighbor and buried him under the floor.  There's no evidence that Stephen King ever chopped down a bathroom door with an axe to get to his wife and son.  I have a feeling that George R. R. Martin has never killed any wedding guests.

You write what comes to you.  You write what you feel is the best idea you've had and has to be brought out and shared with people.  Being an author is the real life equivalent of being a character on the stage.  I went to a theatre workshop once where the teacher said that the Shakespearean monologue and the Broadway musical number are what happens when the emotion builds up to the point that simple speech will no longer serve to express it.  Of all the dozens (hundreds?) of theatre workshops I've been to, that idea is one of the ones that sticks with me as a writer.  When the idea, the emotion, builds up to the point that it can no longer be contained, it must be written.  It must be shared.  

Maybe family members die tragically.  Maybe there is a battle and a beloved mentor dies.  Maybe wolves eat people.  But there is no story if there is no conflict.  The character needs an impetus to get up and get going.  And if everything is just fine and dandy, there is no conflict and no desire to change.  No one is going to read a story about a normal character in a normal family where nothing goes wrong and nothing ever changes.  Or, to paraphrase an acquaintance, "No one is going to pay to read Harry Potter and the Fairly Uneventful Year at Wizard School."