I love Shakespeare. No, I did not say I love reading Shakespeare. Let’s not get those two confused. Reading Shakespeare is harder than heck. Let’s face it. Unless you are some mighty collegiate literary major, no one really understands his poetry the way it is written. But what he writes is beautiful and emotional. He expresses his feeling so purely and poetically. That is what I love about Shakespeare. His ability to express his feelings and emotions for all the world to see. It defined the man as a romantic, a lover, a soul of great wisdom.

But maybe he wasn’t! Very little is known about the man. Maybe he was stoic and poised for all the world to see…and only through his words was he able to define his inner being. He could have been an ass to his lovers for all we know.

I am a writer. I write about feelings and emotions all the time. That is what makes my characters…their raw emotions, the explosion of feelings that I uncover throughout the pages. Their weaknesses and fears that seep through their actions. Their exploration of their emotional depths. The sharing of those discoveries to another person  and the ability to grow. Wow! How emotionally developed a writer must be to express all that.

Not.

I am a writer. And I dare say, I am not one of those anti-social, quiet writers that just want to be left alone. I admit with full disclosure, that I am a vivacious personality. (I know my friends and family are rolling their eyes. The statement may be a little understated.) But lets get this clear. Who I am is not reflected in that personality. It is the person I choose to express. It is not the person I am. That emotional person is locked deep inside. Safe. Or so I thought. Until the words start to flow and I realize that emotional safe space is tapped and I create.

I am full of those….you know….THOSE things you call emotions. They are just under the surface of my skin. No, let me rephrase that. They are a little deeper…safe where if I get cut, burned, scorned, hurt, you won’t see them. They are deeper than just under the surface of my skin. Maybe closer to my heart. You would have to pry open my chest to get to them. Except when I write. I bring them up through my blood. through my veins to the ends of my fingertips and onto the keyboard. Voile! Emotions that are raw and real. In my words, if you look closely, you have tapped into my emotional being.

Is not all art a tap into the dark layers of our emotional selves? I think that is why it is so hard to release my work to others. I fear they will see too much. They will tap into me…the me that I hide, keep safe, let no one else see. The stuff in my head. Who expresses what is in their head???? Stupid artist, that is who!!! We throw it out there, in black and white, in a song, with color on canvass, or on the stage. The average person would never, EVER do that. It is just too dangerous. You can get hurt, berated, judged, and demonized. Ouch! Why would anyone do that to themselves.

I don’t know…I am an idiot!!!

Now, let me state this loudly and clearly. The people I write about are not ME. Their experiences are all CREATED from my imagination. No, I never visited a whore house and “explored” myself. No, I did not travel through time. No, I am not describing a kiss that I once had by anyone, nor are the intimate scenes taken from personal experiences! The stories I write are creations, and strictly pure fiction.

Whew…got that explained.

What I am expressing is that writing is completely personal. You cannot help but tap into the side you might want to hide, for it is what makes your writing worth connecting with for the reader. If you don’t, I fear your characters will fall flat. You must let yourself be vulnerable to create art. That is a scary…no, a frightening venture. But maybe that is the only way I know how to let go of the inner me…