Proust said ‘a book is a product of a different self than we manifest in our habits, our social life and vices.’ This is true. The inner self of a writer, the self destined to live beyond the flesh, is not always visible in the writer’s daily life. But the writer’s true voice, once discovered, is congruent with the writer’s soul.
This voice is what all writers seek, and very few find – to raise a cry that is integral to one’s soul. Here is the paradox of writing. You can’t hide behind words. What and who you are shines forth on every page – whether you pretend objectivity or not. You strip down to the essential self.
Erica Jong,
The Devil at Large