autobiographical self-deprecation

self-deprecation: Disparagement or undervaluation of oneself and one's abilities


I had lunch with a dear friend today. We delved deep into our psyches, diagnosed our problems, discussed Hemingway, mountain climbing and the importance of whipped cream, while simultaneously taking pictures of my three-year-old and making sure her precious Dora episodes never ran out on my iPhone. . . multi-tasking at its best.

At one point our conversation turned to me and my writing. I have, as of the past week, committed myself to writing again- to exercising the severely atrophied creative muscles in my head, heart and soul. The crux of the conversation was how much a writer should borrow from themselves, their experiences, their relationships, their feelings, their life for the fictional narratives they pen. His argument was that he would find a story borrowing heavily from my own life pretty darn fascinating. My argument was that nobody really is interested in someone else's life. We all find our lives way more engrossing then we think our friends, much less perfect strangers, ever would.

I am 33, I have two children, a failed marriage, some stories to tell that may pique your interest for about 10 pages. But to devote an entire story arc to my life would be mundane at best. As an example, and on a much simpler platform, I cringe when I update my Facebook status knowing that my "I actually made it to the gym today" or "I love peanut butter" proclamations are never pondered for more time than it takes to read the words, if they are even read at all.

Our society on a whole is quite obsessed with putting it all out there for other people to digest, however. Is it because we want people to know we are really living? If we refrain from Tweeting, posting, blogging, emailing, uploading the photos to prove we were there then are we really living? Or worse, will others think we are boring?

I will confess my need for validation. I started this blog to write, to produce something and call it my own. My deep, dark secret though is that I hope to be read. Not for notoriety... for connection. And I believe that to be important since all of us are participating in our relationships largely from in front of a computer screen or cell phone-- reading emails, texting, and scouring profiles on social networking sites. Our connection with each other is so heavily dependent on the written word... I want mine to be read because in essence my words are me.