#just some thoughts. sorry for any typos. im on mobile and have shrek thumbs

[ellatholmes]

Something I've been thinking about lately is this: a brief defense of "self insert" writing.

I remember when I first shared a shared story with some random person in a Facebook writing group--I had written about a young woman hiding her magic, who meets a mystical man. He shows her kindness and gives her a place to live in relative safety while they figure shit out. The feedback I received was at once true (clarity was not my strong suit back then) and strange: I must have written this as a form of wish fulfilment, and that this young woman was a self insert. Why? She had my hair colour.

While think there's more to be said about how gendered and common this idea is/can be, that's not quite what I'm focusing on today. Let's also put aside the fact that yes, this kind of "feedback" (though I hope it's delivered in a much more actionable and helpful way) can be grounded in a real narrative issue.

The interesting thing about fiction, I think, is how it's one way we can step outside of ourselves and embody someone or something else for a while. I have written about witches in the woods, and I loved living with them for the weeks it took me to polish their short story. I loved falling down the rabbit hole of how to prepare fish for cooking over a fire. I have written about men digging garden plots during a war and earning his living by giving the government a place to hide bodies. I loved putting myself in his dusty old shoes and imagining myself on another planet, a techno chip in my hand used for everything from getting into buildings to transferring payments.

This week I wrote about a grieving man in his nineties, playing his wife's favourite song for the first time since she had passed away. And I sat in that grief and sadness with him. I think I'm able to do this partly because I give all of my characters at least a tiny part of myself, oftentimes without thinking--a dislike of lavender for the witch, a constant undertone of emotional supression for the gardener, the cold weight of depression for the old gentleman. I insert a little of my experiences, beliefs, personhood, thoughts, and feelings into them, even when they feel like the furthest thing from me.

I have come to think that maybe everything is a little self-insert by virtue of coming out of your brain, from your imagination and your willingness and ability to think and feel and see as your characters do.

Sure, sometimes I write about women with red hair, few friends, chronic pain, or a very firm opinion on Cars 2 (2011). Those characters are the very obvious parts of me, and so what? She goes on the adventures I'll never have as a (sadly) reality-bound human, and I go with her. I go with all of them, and I don't think that's a bad thing.

What do you think?

#just some thoughts. sorry for any typos. im on mobile and have shrek thumbs #p for personal #writerblr