Brave. It is a word that has been used quite a few times now from readers of my book, to describe the writing of my personal narrative to draw upon work and life experiences whilst illustrating the thrust of my argument. 

In truth, ‘brave’ isn’t a word I would describe myself as, neither do I regard myself as someone who is particularly special or any different from others who feel or have felt disenfranchised or passionate about similar modern day issues. 

I am just someone who felt compelled to share and voice concerns for humanity and the environment; to at least stoke reflective thinking or critical thought.

When I set out to write my Dickensian novel to reflect on my research and subject area, I had not expected to share so much of my personal life and thus honest emotion. It had been an emotional time during the writing of my book, losing my eldest sister to terminal cancer midway through, and my writing had evolved into a personal journey as well as an academic discovery. I found words pouring carefreely from my mind, sharing sometimes painful memories and an honesty showing warts and all. 

As a very private person the openness of my account is quite terrifying if I allow myself to panic. Yet there is a sense of purpose in such revealing honesty; an underlying message that I hope readers will reflect upon and cite debate, and to understand and feel the narrative as if they were the main character themselves. After all, isn’t that the power and essence of storytelling? – to lead the reader into experiencing another life, to see things from a different perspective, and thus evolve and unfold, finding new subjectivities and new ways of thinking. Maybe it could even help those who have shared similar life experiences, perhaps even inspire others to reflect upon their own lives and find ways to enrich or better themselves. 

Perhaps if more people felt compelled to share their narrative, to feel safe enough to recount their experiences through the art of creative writing could we learn a range of different subjectivities in a Socratic dialogue; opposing this sense of fear that hair-triggers barriers and stone walls, protecting the ego like their life depended on it in a society that appears colder than it is open.