Privacy is one of the most pressing and paralyzing issues writers face with personal essays. We confront it with every single story we craft. Am I oversharing? Do I really want everyone to know these details about me? Am I prepared to grant them complete access to my internal psyche?
For those of us who write about our children, parents, spouses and siblings (um, I think that’s all of us), we also have to consider whether we’re violating their privacy with the words we choose to put on the page.
I’ve shared my personal rubric for making these decisions in a previous newsletter. But recently I grappled with a more mind-boggling ethical dilemma: Writing a story that invades a stranger’s privacy.
What if someone you’ve never met sees themselves in a story you’ve published — and not because they related to your experience, but rather because you’re sharing their personal information without permission.
Let me explain …
Recently, I wrote an essay about why Brandon and I keep the memory of his late wife, Sherise, alive for our children. I sold the piece to The Washington Post (it will run in a few weeks). As soon as I received confirmation that the editor wanted to run my essay, I cheered and cringed. My first thought: Brandon’s stepchildren.
My essay is about these teenaged kids’ mom. It explains that their biological dad picked them up from school the day Sherise died, and within weeks, moved them out of state. Brandon never saw them again. It talks about the quilts she made for them when they were little and how Brandon has been writing them birthday cards for 13 years —and keeping them in our garage so they won’t get confiscated. Those are the facts.
And yet, those same facts reveal highly personal stuff about a dead mom and two teenagers I have never met.
The Post is not an obscure publication. It’s possible Brandon’s stepchildren, or their biological father, will read it. Is it fair for me to share these details about their lives without their consent? I don’t know.
I do know Sherise is dead, so I can’t get her permission. But I get the sense, in that other-worldly way, that she would give me her blessing. That maybe she wants to connect with her children. So if this story somehow reaches them, is that really such a bad thing?
Again, I don’t know. So I relied on Brandon. I gave him the piece to read and asked for permission to publish. You’re reading this now because he said yes!
On Anonymity
One of the ways I protect my family’s privacy is by using my maiden name for my writing. If my kids’ teachers, coaches, or friends’ parents see my story in the paper, chances are good they won’t link it back to me and our family. The perks apply to this latest essay, too. If Sherise’s first husband sees the story, he won’t know Brandon’s second wife wrote it by reading my byline.
For really sensitive stories — the ones that address sexual abuse, in-law dynamics, or marital mishaps — I pitch only to pubs that allow pen names. I’ve also sent those pieces to print publications overseas. As with all things, your gut instinct is the best litmus test.
Do you have a great story about an experience where a stranger plays a prominent role? Try this: Write a few graphs on the topic and send it to me by September 1. The winning participant will receive their choice of three awards:
- A spot in my September basic class
- An essay critique
- A half-hour of one-on-one coaching
And yes, you can “gift” your winning prize to a loved one or friend.
Need some extra coaching? I have a few slots left in my Basic Essay Writing Class (beginning September 12), and people are already reserving spots for my next Alumni Essay Writing Class, which will begin sometime next year. I also offer one-on-one coaching and one-off critiques year-round.
I hope to “see” you in some capacity soon. In the meantime, Happy Writing!
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