I came across this phrase, “naked confessions,” in an old
Ken Follett novel and it was like being hit with a cold wet rag. I thought, “This
is what good writing is all about.”
Coincidently I had just finished Jodi Picoult’s novel Handle
with Care. Her telling of this tale is a perfect example of what struck me so
clearly about this type of writing. In
fact, every Picoult novel I’ve read has this characteristic. She picks a
subject no one really wants to think about – i.e. whether or not we would
choose to keep a profoundly disabled child or abort it (in Handle with Care) –
and pulls us through every angle of the topic.
At the heart of all her stories is the truth. Thoughts we really think,
all of us. When a character has what society has decided is a terrible
reaction, she makes us see that while it might be terrible it is both natural
and probably more universal than we’d like to think.
Every piece of fiction contains myriad circumstances that
examine choices. We make choices all day long, moment by moment. We also expend
a lot of energy in keeping those choices private. Why? Because the truth is not
always comfortable and although we may ultimately come to a socially acceptable
choice, the places our minds visit in the process of deciding are not always
pure. In fact, if truth be known, we are much more profane in our thoughts than
we want anyone to know.
It is the profanity or unacceptability of these thoughts
that make the story interesting and compelling. No one wants to read about
someone instantly knowing the “right thing to do.” This is because a human that knows
the correct choice without agonizing through all the possibilities is worst kind of
science fiction and we cannot relate to that type of character. The more honest the response an author imbues
his hero(ine) with the more compelling the story.
In reality, an excellent book requires naked confessions of
the author. In order to write a thought, we must have had it ourselves. It has
to have passed through a writer’s mind to make it to the page. It requires
exposure – complete and total. When a
story does not contain the full range of the author’s own reaction, sometimes
pared down to the thoughts the character would actually have herself, it doesn’t
ring true.
For instance, in Picoult’s book the two central questions
are: 1) Would I abort a profoundly
disabled fetus? 2) Would I sue for damages at the loss of my best friend and
trauma of my family if it would provide a better life for this disabled child?
Both are disturbing questions and the heart of the novel is in the reactions of
all the characters to these two questions. The answers are heart-breakingly
honest. Therefore, it reached me at a
very core level. There were a couple of times I thought, “Oh, get off it” when
some of the people in the story seemed very one-dimensional in their responses,
until it was revealed later on that they had indeed had the thoughts they
wouldn’t want anyone else to know about.
What I’m getting at here is that very basic honesty is
required of you if you’re going to write a truly great story. You must access
and reveal the deepest, darkest parts of yourself and in the event that you
already write dark stuff, you must be willing to shine on the good in yourself
as well, because even the worst villains have a bright spot.
I, personally, struggle not so much with revealing the dark
side, but instead accessing it, because I really don’t like being in that
sphere. However, I push myself because it’s necessary and because I grow as
both an author and a human being when I’m willing to look at the truth of
myself.
Good luck, my friends, with your own naked confessions!
