I have a story to tell, but only if you promise not to give away my secret. Wait. Cross your heart. I won’t make you swear, but you better not tell. Okay?
If you know me, then you also know that several of my stories are based of pieces of reality. Let me pause for a few. I’m going to take a moment to add a disclaimer here – I write fiction, not nonfiction (at least, not yet). Nevertheless, my newest release is titled My Number One.
This story began 70% fiction and 30% nonfiction. The original manuscript would’ve read too much like a memoir of someone’s painful life, though not necessarily my own. Honestly, the characters are me, both male and female, in one way or another. Isn’t that what writing is about? If you’re a writer, author, novelist or similar, wouldn’t you agree? We might allow our characters to say the things we couldn’t ever dream of uttering or exhibit behavior we deem as unacceptable. Imagine if that time we walked away from something prematurely, we could actually go back and follow through and live, love or just give in the way we should have.
Through writing, many are able to examine the what ifs, how come, or why not. We can live boldly and brave the elements, or be swept away by perfect love. If only we didn’t deny ourselves. As much as readers might enjoy or debate over our tales, in many cases some writers can’t help but be jealous of their own storylines they’ve constructed.
With my newest, My Number One, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the journey. I’ve reminisced and schemed over the way in which the intricate details are allowed to be masked in real life fiction. Maybe some day I’ll write an actual memoir, but until that time, I’ll continue to enjoy my own version on reality in works such as A Man Is Just A Man (A Loving Nate Novella), Jezebel Jones and My Number One.