Part 2: Where is Authenticity?

Before we look at that, I have a fun question for you - Is there a muse?  According to Stephen King in ‘On Writing’ - yes.  

I’m a woman, so you would think my muse would be this pretty, sparkly, 1980’s Disney fairy godmother who sprinkles glitter everywhere - but no.  My muse is an overweight, chain-smoking guy, who coughs on me and communicates mainly through grunts.  Why is this?  Well, Stephen told me there is a muse, but he’s a ‘basement guy’.  So it’s all Stephen’s fault, but I think there’s more to it.  

My muse gives me things and he couldn’t care less how I feel about it.  That I find it confronting or painful or worried about what people will think of me isn't his concern.   He hands it over and goes back to offending someone with his plumber’s crack.  I either use it or I don’t.  

I have pondered why I have this guy and not the sparkly fairy.  Here’s something to consider - creativity comes from the grotesqueness of human experience.  When you look at inspiring art, whether it’s a painting or a photo or a piece of writing, the creator shows the audience a truth that they’ve experienced.  Often the truth isn’t pretty and may not be understood by the creator, but they have done their best to convey it and you feel it - the uncertainty, the darkness, pain, jealousy, rage or spiralling sorrow.  The creation reflects it back to you.  Human distress frequently occurs alone and often in your head.  In that moment, you are no longer alone.  Someone out there understands.

Your uncomfortable feelings are your map.  It means you're heading in the right direction.  You can skate over them and create something from the shallow waters.  That will feel safer and may be safer for your reputation.  In my experience, though, humans are experts at picking up on that fakeness.  Inauthenticity is unpalatable - the reader will drop that book in a heartbeat and never pick it up again.

When I was writing, I was going through a particularly hard period and I wrote out how those emotions felt.  I thought that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to use that to write something true.  I didn’t realise at the time how important authenticity is.  I just wanted to believe that my distress might help someone else who feels alone.  Other authors had done that for me.  I wanted to do it too.

If you're writing authentically, you will have a profound influence on someone, somewhere.  You might reach out from the page and for that one person release the pressure valve on someone’s distress and suddenly they feel better.  That is the power that is at your fingertips.  Now, let me ask you - Are you writing?  If the answer is no, why not?

Luv KRF