When I told my husband I was going to be one of the bloggers for BLUNTmoms I gushed excitedly over the phone that I could also blog anonymously if I wanted to.
“Why would you do that?” he asked all rude-like.
Immediately I was crushed. Why would I do that? How dare he remove the wind from my nameless sails? Who does he think he is anyway? What does he know about writing? His talent with the a written word includes a ‘K’ and ‘yep’ via text.
Profound, he is.
I tried to explain to him that writing anonymously is a tool I could use to open up a world of writing for myself I might never allow on my own blog. Without my name attached to it I could say what I want to say without it reaching the eyes of people who might wonder what on earth I am doing. I could use anonymity as a tool to create for myself an online mystique I crave on occasion in the dark recesses of my writer’s mind.
He used words like “cowardly” and “cop out” and “if you aren’t willing to put your name on it then you aren’t willing to own it. A writer should own what they say.”
Own what I say? Why should I always have to own what I say? What can’t I just say what I want to say and not have to defend it or explain it or even have it be known that I said it?
I mean, we do that in our minds all the time, right? We think things we don’t want people to hear. We may say them to another human if we are desperate enough, or feel safe enough, but we always finish it with a “don’t tell anyone I said that!” Sometimes we just want to be heard. Without consequences. And it’s those times that I concede I wouldn’t say anything at all if I felt even a teensy bit responsible for the consequences my speaking might have. Those consequences coming to fruition only because my name is there.
But I still want to speak. So I do.
Sometimes anonymous means freedom. It means release. It means I can write and you can read and you can think about what I’ve written and if you are unhappy you can take it elsewhere. Don’t bring it to me because maybe I’ve already dealt with it. Maybe I’ve worked it out. Now you can deal with it, work it out with someone else. You know, expand the conversation. Debate. Rhetoric, What have you….
With someone else.
I try very hard not to say anything I don’t or won’t stand behind. I try very hard to own what I say. I think I do a pretty damn good job at that but come on now, who doesn’t want to be invisible on occasion? Who doesn’t want total freedom from their spoken thoughts? Who doesn’t want to open up a can and then run away and giggle behind the couch?
I do. I know my husband does too but he would never admit it because he’s already called me a coward today and adding hypocrite to the menu of daily fighting words would be considered overkill.
He is nothing if not a moderate man.
So, in closing, some of what I say will have my name on it and some won’t. It will still be mine and I will still own it because I wrote it and I own what I write. It may be written without my name but I am a grown up I get to make that decision for myself. You, the reader can take it or leave it. Isn’t that one of the beauties of reading certain people’s work? Internalizing, interpreting, accepting or rejecting? There isn’t much I am in control of in this life but as a writer I get to control who knows what I say and who doesn’t. I was going to put my name to this but since my husband has pushed me to the point where I felt I needed to defend my intentions I think I will post it anonymously.
Because I can.