The Fear of Commonality

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I write, and why I’m drawn to writing certain things.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s largely a mental exercise for me – I write so I can broaden my understanding of humanity, both at the individual and group levels.

Writing is largely how I make sense of things I don’t understand. If I don’t “get” why or how someone can make certain decisions or come to the conclusions they do, I’ll often write a character with similar beliefs, perspectives and personality traits, and force myself to get in that headspace so I can see things from that particular point of view. It’s often uncomfortable, but it’s worth it to gain a little more understanding of why someone with that particular background and history might think or act a certain way.

Developing the ability to put myself in a character’s opposing viewpoint started long ago, when I started reading as a young child. I think reading, not really with the intent to understand anything, but just following along on the adventures of all sorts of different characters and personalities, naturally develops that ability within us, and according to at least one study, reading widely tends to make us more empathetic overall.

I think this sort of exercise and reflection is more important now than ever. Often we fear what we don’t understand, and fear tends to lead either to avoidance or hatred if we don’t deal with it in a constructive way.

Sometimes what we fear most is that we will agree with someone we mostly disagree with. That we’ll find commonality with someone we think we don’t like, don’t particularly want to like, and don’t want to have anything in common with. Which is often an uncomfortable dichotomy to be in, because we have to then acknowledge that we might actually be able to understand (at least partially) where they’re coming from, even if we still disagree with their basic premise on a particular subject. What do we do with that, and where can we go from there (if anywhere)? How does our own history and perceptions affect the decisions we make at that point?

This type of cognitive dissonance is why I write, and I want to bring more of this type of conflict and understanding to the stories I explore. In my earlier books, I sort of hinted at it and wrote around it, because I didn’t really understand what I was doing, and what my subconscious was trying to get at.

But this is where I’m at now, and I want my stories to reflect a more purposeful exploration of that push and pull between fear and understanding and commonality in the midst of disagreement.

My Alex alter-ego started writing a short story the other night, about an artist who has to make some choices when faced with an unwelcome surprise. I still don’t know what her final decision will be (though I have a strong idea), but it’s definitely a bit of a struggle for her. She is much different than I am, and I’m guessing she’ll make a much different decision than I would. But I’m still interested to find out what she’ll do, and how it will affect…well, everything from that point forward.

This is what I’ve been looking for for awhile now – a deeper reason to write than “just because it’s fun”. There’s nothing wrong with writing for fun, but having a deeper purpose to it is more motivating for me.

Now, for a completely unrelated question:

Is it just me who hears a very unsettling crunching sound when I roll my head to stretch my neck? It’s very loud and unsettling, and more inside my head (bone-conduction style) than external. I don’t think anyone else can hear it, but I haven’t asked, either. Maybe I should?

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