In the past, when staging a play, I would always follow one simple principle: If I like it, other people are bound to like it as well.
Pretty simple, right?
If you enjoy what you’re creating, other people will enjoy it. That’s kind of a sure thing. I really try to keep that in mind when writing and I’m sure you know that it’s always a challenge to keep our personal censors at bay. Whether it’d be that out of nowhere, you start thinking of your mom when writing some truly disgusting stuff and decide to put the pen down; or you think that “society” or an editor or your neighbor will not enjoy that part of your story and you stop.
Well, don’t. Don’t stop.
Write that gross stuff. Write all of it, you sicko.
When in the zone, keep going, keep the faucet open and push it all out, you can always go back later.
A few weeks back, I sat down and started writing a story idea and before I knew it…BAM!
Yep, I was writing a rape scene. I felt truly uncomfortable, I did not enjoy it one bit. But I carried through and now it’s out of my system. It’s not my best work and I still feel uncomfortable reading it and it’s super gross but I let it happen. I let it out no matter what the censors said.
But shouldn’t we push ourselves to where it’s uncomfortable? Isn’t there a comfort, a safety, in writing only what we love?