Sharing doesn't come naturally for me. I remember pulling over to the side of the road a few times while pondering chapters for my memoir. The suppressed memories were so overwhelming I felt sick to my stomach. The same thing happened while penning my first novel. It didn't matter my characters were fictional. I felt their pain. One of my first readers told me he had to close the book and walk away when he began reading my memoir about dad's return home after a long absence. "Your book brought back memories I didn't want to deal with. Sorry. I don't think I can make it to the end," he said.
Relationships are like layers of an onion. We are attracted by outward appearances and we want to know more about what's inside. Fiction is another layer. It's a form of hiding behind imaginary characters. Readers are asking, "are these people in your novel real?" My answers are vague. All my characters, real or imagined, are in a witness protection program. That's my onion story. What matters most to me is that my stories inspire you to share more of yourself with others without being afraid. Have a great day.
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