“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”
- Oscar Wilde
“All we see of someone at any moment is a snapshot of their life, there in riches or poverty, in joy or despair. Snapshots don't show the million decisions that led to that moment.”
-Richard Bach
Sometimes what we say or do when we think no one is listening or looking speaks volumes, but does it speak the truth we want others to know about us?
Have you ever kept a journal or diary, writing down your daily activities, thoughts, inspirations, dreams, or even your innermost secrets? Did you ever wonder what others would think if they read about your life via your own words, either now or after you’re gone?
Even if you are writing for yourself, I think it’s common for anyone keeping a journal to consider what an unintentional audience might contemplate about you if they came across your private reflections. Would they ponder why you chose to write about the subjects you did? Would they laugh at you? Cry? Feel a connection to you in a way they hadn’t before reading your secrets? Would they find you boring or fascinating? Strong or weak? Redundant or insightful?
A big part of the plot in my current work-in-progress revolves around a sixty-year-old journal written by the grandfather of one of my main characters. The grandfather’s stories, lessons, and secrets in this journal have the potential to do more than connect a man to his deceased grandfather. They have the power to change the course of several lives.
In a scene I was working on the other day my character Kyle reads an excerpt from the journal which helps him solve a problem he’s been living with for a year. Had those same words been written by anyone other than the grandfather Kyle had admired and loved, they would not have held as much power to influence his life. For him, the meaning and impact was based on the source. His connection to his grandfather mattered greatly in how open he was to the message hidden in the daily excerpts.
It’s been an interesting experience writing the journal snippets that are woven into the main story. Not only did I have to be in the head of my character reading the words left behind by his grandfather, but I also had to get into the heart and soul of the conflicted twenty-year-old man who lived through the experiences sixty years earlier. It got me to thinking about whether or not I’d want to find a journal—the private thoughts and feelings—of someone I had loved but lost. What about the grandparents I had only known during their retirement years? What about my childhood friend who died at the age of seventeen? Would I want to see their daily musings, joys, disappointments, rants, and mistakes? Or would that create too much of a potential to alter my memory of who those people were to me? Perhaps those are questions that can only be answered after the experience of reading such personal reflections has occurred, but then the words cannot be unread.
Do you think you’d like to read a journal written by someone you’ve lost? Have you ever come across the words of a loved one after they’ve passed away? Was it a positive or negative experience to examine their private world? I’d be interested in hearing about your experiences if you’d care to share.
Thanks,
Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com
