Narrative Subjectivity

I took an online writing class about two weeks ago and during this time I learned about something called “freewriting,” which essentially means sitting down with a pen and paper and writing—off the top of your head—from a story prompt for a specific amount of time. For one of our assignments we were asked to write “The Story Of My Name”; we were timed for seven minutes.

At first, I had no idea where to go with this because as far as I knew there was no story to my name, LOL. Instead, I talked about how much I hated my name as a kid, so much so that I “changed” it to Sharon, and even went so far as to scribble it on a homemade sleigh ornament and hang it our Christmas tree. Now, it just so happened that I was called upon to share my story with the class. And when I was finished, the professor offered a surprising response. She said it struck her as “heartbreaking” that I despised my name so much, I chose a new one and then wrote it—permanently—on a personal ornament and hung it on the tree.

Heartbreaking! Wow. I wonder about the expression on my face as she said this because I felt my body register … bewilderment. There I was thinking I was telling a funny, lighthearted story from my childhood when instead I was breaking hearts! Who knew? Never in a million years would I have considered this memory heartbreaking, and I don’t think I’d be alone in this sentiment. Many children don’t like their name. To me it’s just another example of a kid being a kid. And in fact, several of the other ladies listening mentioned they had felt the same about their names at one time or another. But the professor stood by her (rather emotional) reaction.

The reason I’m telling this story is because it speaks to one of my favorite characteristics of writing and reading: their subjectivity. I find it both stimulating and intriguing that a group of individuals can listen to the same tale and interpret, react to, and savor it in a completely unique way. Stimulating because another’s opinion inspires me to see something in a whole new light (whether it’s regarding my writing or not), which, in turn, sets my mind on fire and gets my creative juices flowing. And intriguing because I relish hearing thought-provoking interpretations that differ from my own, especially when I would never have even considered the possibilities.

Take Game of Thrones, for instance. That story could have gone a million different ways. Every fan had an opinion, a theory, an analysis, and each backed it up with captivating and insanely plausible evidence, all using the storylines from the same books and the same TV show. And many of the theories out there were creative, introspective, and brilliant!! The last and final season was especially divisive among fans, but it was perfect fodder for some of the best frank discussion surrounding the most epic show of our time. I still get a rush thinking about the subjectivity of it all and the show ended more than a year ago (sniff, sniff). (If you’re interested in reading my recaps on the final season of Game of Thrones, start with “GOT Premiere: A Feast For The Seven Kingdoms (Episode 1)”; I link to my other reviews therein.)

This topic came up in conversation with my husband recently, too, on a piece I wrote. He read my poem about sunflowers and asked if it was a poem about our children. Whaaaaaat?! I was completely blown away because at no point during the writing process did our kids enter my mind. But his interpretation—of the morning starting quietly and peacefully, the kids awakening to wreak havoc on the world, and then the return to tranquility after they go to bed in the evening—filled me with such happiness and pride, I can’t even tell you. I find it so incredible that he read a poem about sunflowers, intended to describe how they bestow their energies upon each other during a threatening thunderstorm, and envisioned a parent struggling to make it through a chaotic day of child-rearing. You can’t get any more subjective than that and I adore his interpretation! It was thoughtful, insightful, and really made me see my poem in a new light.

I find this a lot on my blog, as well. It’s always interesting—and sometimes surprising—to see which posts are going to resonate with readers. It’s almost never the ones I’d expect, which is pretty cool. Some people relate more to my positive, silver linings posts (not my usual style, but I wouldn’t have survived quarantine without “writing the good”), while others appreciate my crabby, bitchy, anti-everything rants (these are more the real “me”).

It’s fascinating when you think about it. We humans are all unique and we all have different perspectives and experiences through which we view the world and the stories around us. And it is our interpretations, analyses, and impressions of those stories that compel us toward problem solving (conceding there is no single right way to tackle a dilemma), critical thinking (understanding and appreciating another viewpoint and weighing the ramifications), collaboration (accepting others’ opinions and working together toward a common goal/mindset), and even emotional maturity (recognizing how and why something makes us feel one way or another). I don’t think there’s a book, show, song, poem, painting, recipe, sculpture, or any other creative endeavor around us that doesn’t elicit some sort of emotion or response from whoever’s watching, listening, or partaking. It’s not the song, story, or recipe that differs, it’s the individual’s emotional response, perception, and reaction to that song, story, or recipe. And that comes down to each person’s outlook and circumstances along this journey we call life.

What a beautiful concept, subjectivity. At least within the realm of the arts. Pitch this idea inside the confines of the “real” world and it would be an entirely different post. So, no thanks, I’ll stick to my fiction and fantasy. There’s just nothing better than writing a poem or a story that speaks to people in disparate ways and sends them on their own journey of self-discovery. Or listening to a song and pondering why one day it elicits your deepest rage and another it reduces you to tears. Or stuffing your nose into a book (go ahead and take a good long sniff while you’re there!), losing yourself in an incredible story, and then spending hours digesting the hell out of it with a friend or a circle of friends. Some of the best days of my life were spent around someone’s kitchen table dishing and quibbling about Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Outlander, and so many other books, shows, music.

I love it so much I’m already hankering for my next narrative subjectivity adventure (is that a thing? I’m making it a thing). In fact, I just started riding The Wheel of Time (yes, the 14-book series by Robert Jordan) and I can’t wait to make heads or tails out of this new and exciting fantasy world. And I know just who I’m going to snare (er, invite) into my special corner to hash it out—subjectivity and all! I hope he brings his A-game.