Have you ever found yourself looking up from the pages of a book and wondering how much the words you’re reading are a reflection of the author’s own personality and life?
We’re all familiar with famous examples of autobiographical fiction (such as Dickens’s David Copperfield) in which it’s easy to draw parallels between the make-believe and the real life. But most of the time, the reality on the page is a far cry from the reality of the author’s life. I remember being devastated when I learned one of the favored authors of my childhood, Will James, was not the rip-snorting, free-wheeling cowboy portrayed in his books.) But certainly the adventures on the pages of a book are just as intimate, if more obscure, a portrayal of the author as the “real” persona he presents to the world.
Think You’re Not Projecting Yourself in Your Writing? Think Again!
Inevitably, all our story ideas are reflections or results of something in our lives, however unimposing. Our stories are us. Even when set in the far-flung regions of space or told through the viewpoint of a character of a different gender or race or age (or species, for that matter), the stories are a reflection of our own beliefs, our own psychological idiosyncrasies.
Sometimes this imposition of ourselves into our work is very obvious. When I craft themes around the subjects I’m most passionate about, I’m inevitably aware of it: I am intentionally projecting myself into my writings. I am consciously making the decision to display a truth that goes deeper than just the characters or the story and reflects upon my own personality and paradigms.
But what about unconscious projection? What kind of story does my writing tell about me as a person? Why am I attracted to certain kinds of stories? Why do I write historicals and fantasies instead of cozy mysteries? Why is self-sacrifice such a moving subject for me?
You Might Learn More About Yourself in Your Writing Than Even Your Readers Will
Some of these questions I can answer pretty easily, of course. But some fascinate me by the very fact that I can’t answer them. Sometimes, after letting a story sit for several months, I can go back to it with fresh eyes and wonder where certain passages came from—because they sure didn’t seem to come from me.
Dreamlander (Amazon affiliate link)
My stories aren’t autobiographical in any sense. As I mentioned in the post about writing what you don’t know, I prefer to explore tales set outside my own field of experience. Like many authors, I tend toward introverted bookishness and let the swashbuckling side of my personality find fulfillment on the page.
But it’s an interesting fact that my stories’ themes, no matter how randomly I’ve selected them, inevitably mirror my personal struggles at the time of my writing. In my portal fantasy Dreamlander, I wrote about the purpose of life—how we find it and how we fulfill it. Ironically enough, some of what I wrote ended up later smacking me right in the face as the answers I was seeking myself. Most of that, of course, is a God thing. But it’s also an interesting psychological fact.
The idea that certain elements of the author’s personality are reflected in his fiction—or of his unknowingly working out his own problems through his characters—is fascinating to me, not only on a personal level, but also because it presents a deeper reading experience, bringing me closer not just to the characters of other writers, but also to the writers themselves.
Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! How much of you is sitting there among your characters? Tell me in the comments!
