Someone once accused me of not caring about my creative writing class in college because all of my “fictional” stories about girls of various names banging guys with names 5 letters or less. This same girl once took things a step further and called me out for not writing real fiction, just stories about my sex life. Even though she is still to date one of the most agitated, rude, and envious people I’ve met in my life, she was one hundred per cent correct. Almost every story I submitted to my creative writing class (except two that I can recall) were all based, in varying levels, on my sex life, and most of my classmates enjoyed the majority of them (I think?).
I certainly don’t harbor any bad feelings toward this woman anymore (although, if you had asked me in college about her, I would have told you she would have made a better contribution to society as a tree than a person), but I would like to point out that I’ve had much more fun writing with consistency when my pieces have been based on real life events. This, by no means, is a thank you, nor is it an apology toward this woman; however, it is most certainly a reminder to all readers that by embracing the quirks that make you who you are, you will thrive. You will do much better in life knowing who you are while discovering who you are growing to be.
I’ve never been one for a filter, and when this girl called me out for my stories being about my own sexual escapades I owned up to it. There is no shame in embracing the weirdo you are, or your normal life (whichever category you may or may not belong to), and no one should try to make it a shameful practice.
Now that this epiphany has struck me like fake love on Valentine’s Day, I will dig a little deeper to bring the inappropriate, the playful, the pathetic, and all the other aspects of myself to my writing to make it as honest and humorous as possible. As Mae West once said, “When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better.”