We’re not supposed to tell lies. Lies are dangerous, misleading. They cause pain and mistrust. And yet, there’s an undeniable freedom to be found in a lie.
Some lies are necessary. I’m not just talking of the little white ones we tell our friends when they ask us if we like their outfit, or the half-truths we tell our loved ones to spare their feelings. I’m talking about necessary lies, the ones we use to protect ourselves.
To liberate ourselves.
I find freedom in the lie of who I really am. A name, carefully crafted to retain and protect my identity from the world. This lie is necessary; it affords me the freedom to write without restraint. It allows me to unleash the real me, without revealing my born-into identity.
To create freely is the true joy of all writers, artists and makers. Yet many of us feel a crushing fragility; we censor ourselves and squash our true potential so as not to reveal too much. “But my family will read this…”, “What if I need to apply for a job in the future? This might come back to haunt me”, “I’d better not write that, my wife wouldn’t like it”.
These creative sacrifices we make, for the sake of truth. For the sake of presentation. Yet we present a diluted version of what we’re capable of. The lie of the pseudonym can unlock the chains of the true self.
Protection, as well as release, is what this lie provides to me. The world is a frightening, judgemental place. In today’s social media maze, the need to become antisocial has never been more tempting. I relish the anonymity of the lie. Nothing pleases me more than the ability to write my internal scripts with the safety of the lie in front of me.
I will own my work, but my work will not imprison me. The lie will make sure of that.
This lie is not a means of deceit. It’s a mask I wear proudly; an alter-ego of sorts. One I’ve needed to sculpt in order to keep the wolves from my door. For behind that door are the treasures of my world, and I won’t allow my writing, or people’s reactions to it, to encroach on their freedom. This makes the lie all the more necessary.
This is a justification of sorts, I know. An explanation for the lie. Yet I feel no guilt about it. I feel freedom.
The freedom in the lie.
You can read more writing like this at actualar.co.uk.
