Artistic License

I am finding myself torn lately.

Being a blog author as well as a “character” in my own blog and two others that I’m aware of, I am coming face to face with the issues of subjectivity and interpretation in blog writing.

Jefferson, Marcus and I have discussed the fact that our relationship, however it evolves, is most decidedly outside social convention. Writing about that is tough. Talking about it is tougher. So I’ve entered into the realm of potential misinterpretive blog fodder. I want to address that before it becomes an issue.

I haven’t written about Marcus’s visit to me this weekend. Colton has. Jefferson has. I was surprised by Jefferson’s post, just as he was at Marcus’s quick decision to visit. I was concerned and a bit confused when I read Colton’s post, just as he is about my relationship with Jefferson and Marcus. So I feel I must write about the visit; if for no other purpose than damage control. Jefferson posted two sentences which received six comments; mostly from concerned friends who read into his post and saw him wounded by his best friend and online girlfriend “cheating” on him.

I thought about posting a comment there myself. Then I realized that it wasn’t my place. My job is not to convince people that Jefferson and I are in a good place in our relationship or that we’ve talked at length about us, about Marcus, and about the future. It certainly is not my job to do that in Jefferson’s space.

Here, though, in my space, I can. I will. It is my privilege as a writer; just as it is the privilege of others to write their stories their way. That being said, while the stories in my blog are as true as I can make them, I do not have a photographic memory. It is excellent at recalling events and conversations, but it is in no way perfect.

This must extend to each narrative blog one reads; they are subjective recollections of events, open to interpretation and revision.

It’s called artistic license.

I take artistic license as my right, and as a useful tool to move my stories along. The stories themselves don't change, they just flow more smoothly. Personally, I am not interested in reading blogs which are about nothing. If I don’t have anything to say, I will wait to post until I do. Others write their blogs religiously, every day, as a journal. This is their right. I edit my text for tempo, language and fluidity; others write extemporaneously, without edits or pause.

When Marcus and I were discussing the possibility of him visiting, I told him I was concerned about Jefferson’s feelings. I wanted to be sure he would be okay with it. Marcus felt the same way. He doesn’t want to damage my relationship with Jefferson, and sees our triad as something admittedly unconventional, and potentially wonderful. I myself felt torn, because this is a new dynamic for me.

During one of our conversations, Marcus said something like,

“Maddie, what are we going to do?”
“Share me.”
“I think Zeus had the right idea.”
“You’re gonna split me right down the middle? Gonna cut me right up in half?”

Sounds pretty good to me.

Marcus is a person I chose to meet. A person who meant a great deal to Jefferson, and by extension, I figured, would be a good friend to me as well. I didn’t expect us to like each other so much.

Jefferson and I have a relationship independent of Marcus, Marcus and I have a relationship independent of Jefferson, the two of them have a relationship independent of me. We are all trying to manage time together; I want them both to visit me, and I am certain Jefferson will still call Marcus to come to New York when he has visitors wanting a solid fuck.

Lord knows those boys can deliver that.

For now I’m content to share the boys. And to be shared. And, as with my own little boys, I want to be fair. Marcus and I will be alone this weekend. Jefferson and I didn’t have that during my stay in New York. We’ll have it soon. We’ve been talking about it for weeks.

I know that the need to compartmentalize is strong for most people. They want a nice little box in which to put their lives and feelings and relationships and they balk at anything which might spill over the sides. Problem is, things are rarely as tidy as we’d like them to be.

Anyone who writes a blog contends with misinterpretations and the drawing of false conclusions on a regular basis. My goal in this post is not to be defensive or apologetic, but simply to remind readers that between each line of text and the next one there is space. Read into that space what you will, but remember that your interpretation is just that.

So that’s why the sudden change in tone over the last two days. I felt the need to address you as author, and not narrator. It’s a fine distinction, but an important one. I welcome your comments and observations about my posts; they help me to be a better writer, and ultimately--I hope--a better person.

And now, back to the fucking.