My last post was about why I stick to fiction. My intent was to explain why I don’t write about my own family.
Which, of course, required me to write about my own family. I guess I could have just as easily written about a friend’s family, or neighbor’s family, but that didn’t seem fair.
Evidently I opened up a can of worms with that one, since I was told (via comment, no less, since phones don’t exist) that I came off as “judgmental, arrogant, pompous and like you feel you are better than your family.”
Everyone is entitled to their opinion. No matter how wrong it is.
I guess I could take my previous post down but then I would feel I’d been censored. Can’t have that! Especially when no one’s reputation was damaged by what I wrote. No one was bullied or maligned.
Except for me, in the comment.
So, to set the record straight:
– I love the South. Being a Southerner is part of my identity, it’s ingrained in my soul, and I’m proud of it. There are a lot of misconceptions about the South, so as a Southerner living in the Pacific Northwest I spend a lot of energy informing people about the good aspects of the South.
– I love my family, all of them. I am proud of a good chunk of them, but there are a few of them that live by a different set of rules than I do. I guess you could say they tend toward the dramatic rather than the ethical.
– Life-is-a-soap-opera is a world-wide problem, not one restricted to any region or country. As I stated before, every family has at least one.
– Saying “my family is littered with them” could be taken to mean that everyone in my family is a soap-opera-wannabe. Which is not what I intended, since that would include me. But since the definition of ‘littered’ is ‘scattered about’, the real implication is that there are a few mixed in with the many.
– Just because I didn’t mention the normal people doesn’t mean I don’t know they exist. I’m normal, and I know I exist.
– When it comes to family, no matter what is said, someone will be offended. Something will always be taken the wrong way. Which is why I rarely write about family.
– My family history belongs to me just as much as it does to any other family member. It is part of what makes me, me. Think about it.
Until next week, on As the Family Churns.
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