Personal Narrative

The personal narrative.  Perhaps it is the one genre more native to me than even the prose poem.  But there it is. I write my life in terms of personal narratives right here, every single day.  And sometimes they're really not that great.  Let me rephrase that: most of the time, they downright suck.  But sometimes a decent bit of writing slips in there, making this blog something I can still periodically be proud of.

But when asked to write creative nonfiction for a class, for people to read, for individuals to use for the purpose of getting a glimpse into my life, I freeze.  I have no idea what to write.  Do you want me to write about depression and messed up relationships and broken hopes and shattered dreams?  Or am I supposed to pull out a rosy childhood memory to expand upon and unravel for the benefit of unsuspecting individuals?

I want more than anything else, sometimes, to write it all.  To throw down the truth and say "so now what, what do you think of me now that you know all of this?"  But I know it wouldn't be as powerful as I would want it to be.  It wouldn't bring the satisfaction I imagine and it wouldn't solve any problems.  At the same time, I have no motivation to write about my childhood because it plays a very minor role in the life I'm living today, not a noticeable one, anyway.

So I sit here, torn into pieces, trying to decide what it would be best for me to write.  Trying to decide what sort of topic I could select that I could write both well and honestly but also be unashamed to share with people who don't know me and have no conception of who I am.  I don't know where this will lead, but I really hope it will be somewhere good.