The assignment is to write about the home you lived in when you were twelve. I’m not going to do this one because it’s actually a little painful and I worry about it being painful for those that would be exposed by the telling, so I think I’ll talk about that instead. I’ll try to incorporate the “twist” – and that is to vary the sentence length.
Are we, as writers, obligated to ‘protect the innocent’? The things I write about here in my blog are often personal meaning those around me might be exposed – much like being the significant other of a stand-up comedian can make one feel like one deserves hazard pay.
I think it is unfortunate that writing the truth could make your relationships difficult, but I also know I would be horrified to find someone posting about me on a public blog. Who knows, maybe it has already happened – I’ve treated some people in my life in ways that I wasn’t proud of. No one recently, but years ago.
How much protection do the people in my life deserve? I suppose I really have to ask how important it is to me to keep them there.