One Hundred Twenty-Four

A friend began writing her memoir, set in the future looking back, this morning.  Creativity is an amazing thing; she asked me to read what she’s written and I was stunned with its honesty and creativity and depth of emotion.  Honesty about one’s emotions—wishes, dreams, desires, and so forth—is hard.  I haven’t mastered it (not even close), but what she wrote made me realize it’s essential to real writing.  Complete honesty can ruin your life, but if you aren’t honest in your writing, you are not honest with yourself.  That’s why so much of what I write will never find its way to my blog or into a  book; it will stay in password-protected files.  That’s not honesty though, is it? My friend’s honesty is refreshing and makes me wonder whether I can have the courage to be honest, one day.