Dangerous Writing

Dangerous Writing Is Writing and Lying 

1. Key takeaways: What are three key messages of this article?

• Unlike memoirs, where you must not lie, Fiction feeds off lies to fully express the truth.

• The Dangerous Writer lies, to tell the truth, truer. It is to tell your own story but invent parts of your tale to bring out the raw emotions that were lurking beneath these experiences to create art.

• Writers of Roman à Clef are observers sitting behind a thin veil and record experiences of real people. These writers report and record these experiences instead of distorting and creating art like the Dangerous Writer.

2. Write about an event that you don’t quite remember (250 words)

Quite a few years ago, maybe more. I saw my mother lay in bed. Most mothers lay in bed during the night or even in the morning. But eventually, these mothers got up to continue their day. My mother lay in bed for days. Not even in our home. She shared her room with many others instead. Being half the size of her bed, I reached up and asked her about the pudding. Wherever this place was, they had the best pudding to offer. For her, anything was achievable by the press of a button. She had it all. For she had gotten so accustomed to the comfort, she did not want to come home. My mother had abandoned me for this comfort; she had abandoned my father too. Every few days, I would notice a distraught tear leave my father's eyes, leaving wrinkles in its paths. He was too young to wrinkle and too young to grey. We were abandoned for the pudding, for the TV in her room, and the other old people's beds that were only a curtain away. Even these strangers remained closer to her than I had. My vexation only grew the longer she was away. For her to be so selfish that she wouldn't even come home. I hated her for refusing my requests. "I can't come home just yet. You have to wait. I promise soon." My mother was not like the rest. She let herself have all, while I had none.