What will people think? While we vary on how social we are and how sensitive we may be about the opinion of others, social connection is a fundamental need. It's right there in Maslow's hierarchy. So, when we communicate, it's natural that we are somewhat reserved and careful. We want to be liked. Generally, we don't want people to consider us to be rude. Or dangerous. Or foul. Or even weird.
I've unavoidably touched on concerns about reputation in previous posts in this series, but this time I'll dig a little deeper.
Who thinks up stuff like this? I'm guessing Stephen King has had to deal with hordes of people who think he's a creep. And I wonder how many people think Thomas Harris is a little bit like his creation, Hannibal Lecter. While many people love stories out of the mainstream, writers who write them may find their works become too closely identified with who they are. The monster doesn't fall far from the Frankenstein, they think.
The most stark example I can think of is Kurt Vonnegut, who wasn't reluctant to insert himself into his stories. Dresden traumatized him, and I found myself worrying about his depression and drinking problems, even though I never met him. I have no doubt that some of what Ishmael suffered in Moby Dick was based on experiences Herman Melville had at sea. But, famously, Stephen Crane, the author of The Red Badge of Courage never went to war. Female authors have written brilliant male characters, and vice versa. Gay writers have created memorable straight characters, and vice versa. The magic writers do through imagination comes from research, listening, and humanity, not just from personal experiences.
And yet, there is a danger of the work being read as biographical when it's not. This does not have to be faced (and probably shouldn't be) in draft mode. But it can become real when the story is made public, and the writer has to decide if the story is worth paying the price of being misunderstood. I heard an actor say once that playing a character who was a bad actor was lose/lose. Do good job, and you'll convince audiences your bad actor. Do a bad job, and you'll prove that you're a bad actor. About the only thing you can do to protect yourself from this is to have a good explanation and have reputable people ready to defend you. Jack Benny was a generous man who played a miser through a character named Jack Benny. Throughout his life, his many famous friends deliberately let the public know how charitable he really was.
Exposure. Though not everything in a fictional story is factual, some may be. It may be personal. It may be damning. It may inappropriately share a secret. It may reveal an attitude that is considered antisocial or could shatter a relationship. Yet, part of the bargain for writing stories worth reading is authenticity and even confession. The workaround? Disguising the truth — especially when it might put others at risk — is a good choice. I recommend it. You may go further by moving away from mimetic fiction into science fiction or fantasy. (That's what some writers did during the McCarthy Era, and, famously, how Rod Serling dodged the interference of sponsors.)
Of course, you may want to reveal yourself as less-than-perfect. We all have dark sides, and acknowledging this can be both healthy and engaging. Showing flaws makes authors more approachable just as surely as it makes characters more interesting. Everyone has to do this respecting their own health and security. Especially in an age of trolls, being vulnerable carries the risk of opening old wounds.
One writer friend said something that rang true and articulated an idea that helps me to be more open in my writing. She said she had never written anything that didn't have important and risky biographical material within it. But, in her experience, people were never able to pick out the things that really happened to her. Furthermore, things that never happened (and, thus, were easily denied) were the things people focused on and tried to attach to her. So maybe go ahead and tell the truth. It’s likely people will never notice.
Taking the other side. I once wrote a first-person story where the narrator was unreliable and despicable. In the end, that character was defeated. Five editors told me that if I changed the story to have a “happy ending,” they buy it. Of course, it did have a happy ending. The horrible narrator failed. Luckily, the sixth editor understood what I was doing and bought the story. He liked how well he had been misled until the very end. Especially since it happened in a story that overturned a common science-fiction trope.
The point is, if your story includes someone advocating a horrendous point of view, someone may suspect it's something you believe. It could even be used against you. When Upton Sinclair ran for Governor of California, some papers attributed quotes from his novels’ villains to him.
When All the Family was on television, the writers worked very hard to present Archie Bunker, the bigoted main character, in a rounded way, but to show him gain his comeuppance or his being gently mocked. This was effective for much, perhaps most, of the audience, but not everyone. Some saw him as a hero.
Just as I winked at readers at the end of my story with the unreliable narrator, you might want to cue people in so they know your actual view. (You may not want to do this. It's a tricky aesthetic choice.) Having a character who articulates the other side can also offset toxic opinions. I think the strongest way to present concerns about "other side" statements is by showing reasonable consequences.
Illusions of self. If you let it, your writing, especially what you put down the first draft, will tell you things about yourself. I think listening to these is invaluable, even if what is revealed to you doesn't end up in the final draft. It takes a level of distance and humility for this to work.
For me, distance involves letting the manuscript sit for a while and reading it as if someone else had written. It's easier to say what slipped out from your unconscious from a point of greater objectivity. Humility comes with developing the capability to avoid marking up, correcting, or expunging bits that make us feel uncomfortable.
It's natural to carefully protect whatever concept of identity we have. It can even be painful to allow that to be challenged. But recognizing illusions of self is a powerful way to grow and adapt. To mature. There are lots of reasons to protect your privacy and your social standing. But if you protect yourself from your true self, you'll lose something of great value.
The fear of reputation can be reduced by withholding some stories from the public, disguising others, having defenses and excuses at the ready, and calling upon others to defend you. But this fear can also be reduced by accepting your true self more fully. Humility. Forgiveness. Gratitude. These are virtues and habits worth developing, and all of them contribute to moments of courage.
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