Nine times out of ten, when I tell someone the basic premise of my novel-in-progress, Tangled (country-raised teenagers trying to survive their first semester at an inner-city university), they ask whether the book is based on my personal experiences. I answer that there are some similarities, but it’s predominantly fictional. But for some reason, at that point, people often give this wink-and-smirk combo, as if they know that Tangled is really my life story but I’m too embarrassed to admit it.
I’ll be honest with you. This frustrates me for a couple of reasons. Namely:
- If it was my life story, I’d just come out and say it.
- It implies I’m not creative enough to conjure a plot purely from my imagination.
So, here’s some proof that this book really is fictional:
Jeez she was a good kisser. Slow and sexy. I could taste the guava cruisers she’d been drinking on her lips, real sickly sweet. Then her tongue touched mine, and my heart started beating real fast. I could tell where all my blood was pumping to. Hopefully it wasn’t as obvious to her as it was to me. But then she laid back on the grass and pulled me down on top of her, so there was no way I could hide it. I mean, it was pretty much poking her in the thigh and saying, ‘Hi, wanna play?’
I definitely haven’t experienced that personally! Hopefully that will convince those with doubts that I have an imagination. 🙂
To my writer-readers, do you have this same problem? Do people assume your fiction is based on real life? (I’m assuming this is only relevant to contemporary writers, but if you have any stories about people asking if your fantasy fiction is based on reality, I’d love to hear them!)