A Manifesto on Authenticity and Truth
I’m excited.
I feel energized. I feel ready. I feel motivated. I feel compelled. I feel driven.
I am going to write.
I’m not writing to show off. I’m not writing to perform. I’m not writing for money. I’m not writing for fame. I’m not writing for acclaim. I’m not writing for awards. I’m not writing to prove anything. I’m not writing to change your mind.
I’m not writing for you at all.
I know — I know — every English teacher you have ever had has harped on the importance of audience, of being aware of your audience, tailoring your message to an audience, adjusting your style and tone to suit an audience, and blah, blah, blah.
You must know your audience, that’s what they all say.
Hogwash, I say.
If I’m writing for you, then it’s just a performance. It’s just a production. An act. A gig. A show at the local playhouse.
It’s not real.
I don’t know about you, but when I read something, I want it to be real. No matter if it is fiction or memoir or a music lyric, I want it to be real, to be authentic, to be as accurate as possible an expression of that writer’s person or character or the core human truths they have discovered.
