The Story of Life

There's a story of love and loss and everything in between that I would like to tell, however I can't.  Perhaps the word "can't" is not strictly accurate, "won't" is probably more precise.  The reason I won't tell this story is that it involves a love chain.  I fell in love with someone who was in love with someone else, and they were in love with someone else, and they were in love with themselves.  The story wouldn't make sense as a narrative without retelling it from each person's point of view, unfortunately I am one man, I am not four men.  The reason I can't or won't tell the story in its entirety is because most of it isn't my story to tell.

When you are a writer, there are choices you have to make in regards to writing about reality, or events that actually happened.  For some they simply change names to save face, so that the story doesn't single out anyone in such a way that you could cause offence, or even be sued for libel or slander, the law in this regard is rather fuzzy, whilst you are allowed to write that which is true even if it casts others in a bad light, the onus is placed on the writer to be able to prove everything conclusively and when it comes to love and lust and loss the very experience is subjective and open to interpretation.  Then there's the little fact that as of now, this all happened 12 almost 13 years ago and it's not entirely inconceivable that even my recollection is no longer entirely accurate.

The choice you make ultimately comes down to whether or not you think the people who you choose to write about will take issue with it.  In terms of the story I would tell, only 2 of these men did I ever meet, the other I never had the displeasure of knowing.  As far as the two I met are concerned I knew one well but the other I only knew briefly so I can only assume the response that I would get from 1 person in this chain.

Creativity and Copyright or other instruments of the law often clash and cause great conflict.  The greatest story ever told if ever there was such a thing is likely to be a story that has never been printed, either because those involved sought to prevent such actions or because those who would write such would have waited long enough for those involved to pass on, a gamble you take with the risk being that of your own mortality.

Truth they so often say is stranger than fiction, this in my experience I can attest, but there is comfort and safety in fiction, in knowing that the characters of which you write whilst based in some modicum of reality are engaged in a world that does not, or even could not actually exist.

In over three decades of life that I have lived, I have been through a lot.  More than you would expect someone to have experienced.  In many ways I am somewhat glad that the last few years have brought a limitation to my life.  My health problems whilst at times being a great burden to me and cause of great pain - emotional and physical, they have however given me time to rest and shelter myself from some of the things that life can throw at you.  I am not immune by any means, the last few years have not been plain sailing there has been plenty of tumult but for the most part when it comes to other people and their drama and the inevitable impact it has on your life when you get caught up within it, that at least I have eluded. 

We like to think of biographies as books written by an author to document the life of someone else, living or dead.  We like to think by contrast that autobiographies are simply an account of our own lives written by ourselves and that therein lies their entirety but it is very difficult to live a life that does not influence others in some way no matter how anti social or reclusive you may become, life finds a way to pull you back into it.  Short of living on an island or living in the middle of the woods on your own, you are inevitably going to be involved in a story that is much greater than yourself, much greater than your own, the first story, the only story, the story of life itself.