I’m beginning to understand what all have written about feeling what you write. It isn’t enough to know things; you have to bring them to life through characters. All fear and trepidation must be ignored to get to that pearl we call truth.
Truth is always deep down, covered by layers of censorship for societal politeness and personal boundaries. Where is the controversy in presenting a respectable front? What good is blanketing abuse, controversy, ethics, or the evilness of humanity as if it doesn’t exist? You know it does. You may even partake of it.
We don’t admit the story of the rescued animal or successful rescue is boring. We wait to hear more about the murder, the bombing, the suicide. Our inner humanitarian is appalled at these behaviors and states all the appropriate quips and shock, but secretly waits to hear more. We want to know why he did it, what she suffered, and what will happen to the children. We gage our own moral thermometer by how we react to the snapshots of time and when we find ourselves with one toe stepping over the line to the dark side, we present our arguments as defense or safe, hypothetical speak.
But this is truth and truth is what matters. Shedding all rules and morals and values and ideals opens the mind and forces the exploration of what most think is better left unsaid.
Fiction is an avenue of exploration and release protected by disguise. You cheat the world if you do not offer the truth, if you do not dive through the shallow water into the muck to see for yourself what lies at the bottom. Then you must catch a longer breath and reveal on the page what you discovered. Anything short of this is a lie. You must expose the truth. You must reveal the pearl.