I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but my writing class this Fall isn't so much fiction writing as it is more about memoir writing, something I've never really tried. I have too many reservations. If I told my story, or the stories of the people I know, I might have to change my name and move far, far away. Our family stories aren't all rainbows and sunshine, if you know what I mean.
So, as you can imagine, I'm a bit nervous. I'm worried that if I try to keep everything safe, if I try to protect myself and the other people in my life, my stories will be boring and flat. I'm also worried that if I give myself permission to write the truth as I know it, I'm going to be met with disbelief. And then there's the whole question of whether or not I have to have a staring role in the stories. There's one story in particular that I've always thought could provide enough fodder for a full-length novel, but I'm only an observer in it and not an active participant.
I know many of these questions will be answered in class, but I can't help but to think about these things right now. It's the way I'm wired.