As I sit on my couch watching Spider-Man: Homecoming and the demands of raindrops pelt the siding of my home, I wonder how far is too far when it comes to pushing the limits in our writing.
Recently, my motivation jumpstarted a new story I would say I am writing for me. Then again, aren’t most stories we write for ourselves but we just share it for the world to enjoy as well?
There was a brief thought of concern how others would portray this work of art conjured from the depths of my mind. Would I offend someone? Put my foot in my mouth by representing a group wrong?
However, I have found when you drop the bullshit of worrying about the image, the words flow down the stream of enjoyment. Writing what I feel and how I wish for it to be structured takes a ton of stress off my back.
Now, one issue—do I write the bad, ugly, and cringing scenes without apology?
We have a duty as writers to explore all avenues even when it pushes us out of our comfort zone. Should we be blamed if one does not take note of the warning we place in the beginning of our books?
Reality exists even in fantasy, but do we write it raw or be considerate to the characters and those who may have experienced a horrible truth in real life?