The stories we weave of our existence...

Writer, Jeffrey Eugenides writes, ‘I'm not really an autobiographical writer, though I use lots of stuff from my life to make my stories seem real. But when I actually write about myself, I get very confused’and I have to admit this fits my experience of writing about my life perfectly. I don’t think anyone has the ability to portray an entirely truthful account of their existence, as past events are always going to be distorted by the way in which that person has perceived and remembered them, and it does then, become incredibly confusing.

Of course, we may attempt to conceal the truth of our existence deliberately when we write about it, I personally wouldn't wish to reveal everything, in an effort to avoid being completely vulnerable. So yes, I do believe there’s a contrast between the truth of our lives and the story we tell of our existence.

But as Eugenides states, ‘I use lots of stuff from my life to make my stories seem real’ and I believe this is something, as writers, we all do. Cheever’s stories ooze his depressed and conflicted character, John Updike writes in a review of Bailey’s biography of Cheever, ‘Cheever’s characters are adult, full of darkness, corruption and confusion’, therefore Cheever’s writing could arguably be considered a truer depiction of his existence than anything else.

And at the end of the day, every writer’s true aim is to create a good story and perhaps truth doesn’t play a particularly vital part in achieving this.

Grandma Snail

The shrivelled snail and I

played noughts and crosses

until slowly her cinnamon mind

began to dry and

we crushed her shell.

We liked to think she was grinning.

When she died,

I did not wipe one tear

but tore a section of paper

from a pad

and covered it with crosses.

Damn right I'm special.

‘Anyone literate can take an implement in hand and make marks on a flat surface,’ Atwood argues and this in itself is an undeniable fact. So what separates the hand behind the scribbles of shopping lists and ‘To Do’ notes written everyday, by each of us, from the hands of a true writer?

I believe writers, myself included, distinguish themselves by using language to develop something captivating; to allow us to immerse ourselves into someone else’s life for a few hours; to be spies, to observe the sorrow of a middle age woman who no longer loves her husband, to experience the enduring love of a mother for her teenage daughter. Cheever made his living providing us with striking short stories, conveying such naked emotion, that I couldn't help but feel genuine sorrow for many of his characters, particularly for Jack Lorey in Torch Song.

A writer has the unique ability to take mundane, everyday life (words we write, objects we see, phrases we speak) and, just an artist does when creating a painting, craft something so original and enchanting that people should want to read them and allow themselves to be influenced by what they read.

Atwood captures the essence of being a writer rather perfectly, 'The point is the voice (of a writer) is unlike any other voice you have heard and it is speaking directly to you, communing with you in private, right in your ear, in its own distinctive way.’ How can a person’s ability to achieve an accomplishment such as this, not make them special?

Surrealist artist, Max Ernst is a perfect example of how an artist's perception of the world makes them special: