Self Censorship

A Toxic Practice

Hugo
Hugo
Jul 27, 2017 · 3 min read

Once upon a time. No. When the clock hit midnight. No. The sun in the distant horizon broke over the rocky peaks at the edge of the earth and cast a beam of brilliant light miles and miles in length to hit directly upon the cheek of our valiant protagonist. Oh no. Nope. Scratch that. Duh-lete.

We have all been there before: turning down a street where there appears to be a dead end. We turn around and forget it and make way down another road. But who made that roadblock? Why is it there? Can it be something else other than an obstacle?

It was Hemingway who famously said…

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Okay, gotcha. Without dissecting the hell out of this soundbite, let’s say Hemingway was/is correct with this. Bleeding is being used as a metaphor for writing. In this case, bleeding is honest. It can be gushing. Bleeding is human. It is okay. Most importantly, it is often messy. When you end up with a gnarly cut, you probably aren’t going to have the ability to direct the blood where to fall. You must follow it. One must let go and allow the words, the story, to lead.

Ah! Writing!

This is a tough task, stepping away from the seeds and allowing them to grow. Writing is an obsession for some (me, and maybe you). Sometimes we get too involved with the perception of perfection. We want an article, a short story, or a novel to be nurtured at every step. We want to offer them training wheels and a stool to stand on. And more likely than not, I hate the products that come from my own pursuits of “perfection.” I only have myself to blame for that! So in disgust, I erase the entire story and/or crumple the sheet(s) of paper I was working so hard on. What went awry? Notice how I didn’t say wrong.

Censorship. Self Censorship. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s the writer’s version of shooting yourself in the foot. It’s an ingredient for dishonesty and inauthentic work.

Examples include:

— What if nobody likes this?

— Maybe I should change this part to appeal to the masses.

— Well, X writes like this so I’m going to try and sound the same.

— I should probably dial down on the swearing.

— This name is too often used in literature.

— I should sound less cynical.

— I should sound less happy.


RUBBISH. TO ALL.

When working in the theatre, we are taught to “go far.” Go far — and if the director wants to pull on the leash, let them. But until then, go deep. Explore the uncharted depths. Bleed. Bleed a lot. Be human. Make one hell of a proud mess. Don’t think about cleaning up now. You’ll get to that later, as you always do. Write like you’re running out of time. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don’t surprise them. Surprise yourself.

I’ve always believed that there is no such thing as “good” or “bad” art. What exists is the true and the untrue. And they are measured by the fearless and obscure, by the pieces and subjects that push the envelope. These are the books that force us to put them down for a breath. These are the paintings that demand attention. These are the articles that deserve re-reads.

So what if there are typos? You’ll sweep them away. Too much cussing? Not enough! Listen to that vulnerable creator within you when they say, “Go there.” Or risk putting the very thing that makes you awesome on the cutting block.


Hugo is an actor and singer. His two novels will be hitting shelves in the near future. Follow him on twitter for political satire and/or comments about food, and other peculiar observations (@hugosaysgo) . Happy reading :)

Hugo

Written by

Hugo

Freelance writer. Athlete. Texan. I consume a lot of news and my secretary looks a lot like me, but with glasses on. Email: hugoarrcontact@gmail.com

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