My Self-Censorship Struggles.

This is something I've been thinking of putting out there for some time. It's a subject that's a little out of my comfort zone because it involves very personal feelings I'm not altogether sure I won't regret sharing. But, it's a big part of my writing "journey" (I know, please forgive the cliché) and a bit of an obstacle at times.

I've always been a people pleaser and, as embarrassing as it is for someone my age to admit, I'm still very conscious of what certain people might think about the things I write. I'm not talking about quality here; I'm talking about content.

I can give a few examples of this, starting with a sex scene in my novel. I come from a family that doesn't openly discuss things of this nature. That's not something I'd necessarily change, it's just how we roll and that's fine. The trouble is, it's obviously a natural part of the intimate relationship, so when you have couples in your stories, it's very hard to avoid- and who would want to avoid it anyway? That would be cheating the reader out of a crucial moment in character/ relationship development. The story wouldn't feel real any more and, if there's one thing I'm not willing to compromise, it's the quality and depth of my story. So, I'm having to push uncomfortably past the initial feeling of, "Fuck. My parents might read this when it's published."

And that use of expletive leads me neatly to my next example. I also grew up in a household where we were very careful about our language. In conversation, I'm still generally mindful not to swear in front of people who might find it offensive. That would include my parents. But, I decided early on that this blog was going to be my authentic voice, so here it is, even though I know my mum reads it. If my dad reads it, heaven help me. (Although I may have once dropped an F-bomb in his presence towards some random guy making weird comments to me when his car was next to mine at a roundabout. There was no reprisal.)

I'm regretting posting this already. I'm deeply ashamed that I still worry about what my parents think of my work (and my language) when I'm in my 30s. Yes, I'm aware this makes me seem very much like a child, but I'm not quite sure how to combat this anxiety other than just fighting my way past it and writing exactly what I want anyway. I really hope I'm not alone in this and that it provides some solidarity with people, otherwise, I'm just sharing all this embarrassing stuff for nothing.

Maybe other people don't struggle against self-censorship in exactly the same way I do, but I wonder if some people battle with something that holds them back from writing some of the stuff they want to. Maybe they're scared of how things will come across to the reader, or agents and publishers. Maybe they're scared that something is way too personal to be out in the public domain, like this post, for example. Or maybe not. Maybe other people are far more confident in who they are and think "Bollocks to everyone who doesn't accept me the way I am." That's a sentiment I'm striving towards.

There's a reason I've chosen today to finally bite the bullet and write about this particular struggle. Tomorrow is the start of Mental Health Awareness Week here in the UK. While the content of this post is its own brand of cuckoo, that's not strictly why it's related. I'm not here to discuss my need not to upset people and how it relates to my mental health; only how it impacts my writing. What has prompted this outpouring of weird psychological mess is a project I'm planning to do for MHAW.

I'm going to post a piece of my mental health poetry on my social media pages every day throughout the week. Some will be positive and uplifting, some will be dark and disturbing. Some pieces were written at times when I was in the thick of it, others were retrospective. What they all have in common is that I wrote them just for me. They were a tool for catharsis, not to be published or shared. But, I think sometimes we have to put a bit of our pain and struggle out there for others to see; to know they're not alone. That's what this blog is all about too.

My main concern about sharing this stuff isn't what people think of me or my mental health issues. It's about how carefully I've tried to shield the people who love me from the darkest parts of what I sometimes face. Even that statement will upset some people, I'm sure. Nobody wants their loved ones to hide it when they're going through a really difficult time, but it makes us feel worse to know our pain is a source of distress to other people, even if they don't show it. You can see how laying some of the worst parts out there in black and white might be upsetting and shocking to friends and relatives. What I want to reassure those people of is that I'm okay. There'll be more on this tomorrow when I launch my MHAW project with a post about writing as a mental health tool. Please see my profile for links to my social media pages.

So, as I prepare to march into another week in which I suppress the voice that says, "Are you sure you really want to share this?"  I'd just like to reach out to anyone else who's working outside their comfort zone. It's hard and, yeah, some people will hate it. But that's not because it's bad, or because it's not important; it's because you can't please everyone all the time. It's good to push our boundaries because that's when we show ourselves what we can really do. If we censor ourselves in our creativity, if we hold some of ourselves back, we cheat our audience out of something really authentic and special. Keep going. Your work won't be for everyone, but it will speak to just the right people.

V.