A male psychologist/friend asks me during a party how my writing goes.
Whether I am not afraid of the consequences? After all, it is a rather sensitive global and social issue. Am I not afraid of certain groups? Victims, for example.
It’s fiction, Mr. Psychologist.
According to the psychologist, this does not alter the fact that certain groups may feel approached or treated unfairly. So what? I just want to write this book, I have to write this book. So I do not have that much choice myself either. The psychologist, everyone, does not realize that writing this book is not my choice. I am simply a fictitious delegate.
I think it’s good that the story reflects the reality and the intensity of the problem, even the ease with which it takes place. It’s a good thing if you talk about this and stay communicating with each other. Our society seems to recognize, but does not want to talk about it. Society finds it pathetic for the victims and has formed a tolerable image, ignorant to the fact that reality is so much more voilent.
The psychologist wonders if anyone can make the distinction. There is no difference, Mr. Psychologist, there is only fiction. I asked the psychologist if he would like to write something at the end of the book, as a sort of appendix. From a mental health perspective.
When the manuscript is ready, he will read it. No promises.