In my previous post, I mentioned my childhood & how The Spirit Keeper is actually a true story based on my own (peculiar) personal experience. Some readers might point out this sort of claim makes me look like a pathological liar, while others might insist I’m speaking allegorically, but I’m good either way. As far as I can see, those two assertions are basically saying the same thing.
When, as a girl, I got carried away by Indian stories, I never questioned the truth of those tales. Years later, after decades of exhaustive research, I came to find out that most of the things written about historic Indians were just theories, deductions, & suppositions—which are, I believe, all polite ways of saying “lies.” Lies, by definition, cannot be true. Therefore, pretty much everything I’ve ever read about historic Indians amounts to little more than lies.
Lies are bad, aren’t they? I mean, nobody likes being lied to, right? Which I think is weird, because the #1 person most people lie to is themselves, but I guess it’s none of my business what you do in the privacy of your own head. On the other hand, apparently I’ve made it everybody’s business what happens in my head because I put it in the pages of a book, & I suppose this is why I’ve been urged to come clean, ‘fess up, & make clear what is true in my story, what is a lie, & what it all means.
Actually, that’s a lie. What I’ve been told is that my book is just another cheap historical romance & I shouldn’t get so worked up & defensive about it, but I say potato, you say potato. Um, that sounded way better in my head than it looks in writing. Is it too late to call this whole thing off?
All I’m saying is, truth seems to be very subjective & I can’t for the life of me figure out why so many people argue about it so much. The Spirit Keeper is pure fiction, which makes it a complete lie, but, then again, it’s also a complete allegory, which makes it something like pure truth.
I’m good either way.
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