What if they know me before I introduce myself?

  In the previous article, I talked about the fear of showing what we write - whether it’s due to insecurity, fear of criticism, or the worry that something deeply personal might be misunderstood. But there’s an even deeper layer to this exposure: the vulnerability that comes with personal writing.
  All of my books carry parts of me. Anyone who knows me well and reads carefully will probably be able to connect the dots. Certain thoughts, certain behaviours of the characters, specific situations or emotional wounds... they weren’t born only from creativity, but from my experience, from how I see the world, and often, fro

m things I’ve lived through. Even in a fictional story, I carry with me fragments that have shaped me. Writing has, therefore, become an indirect way of revealing myself - as if I were saying how I feel, without needing to say “this is me”.
  In the blog, that process is even more direct. I write about my experiences, how I think, the fears I have and the doubts that cross my mind. In doing so, I’m not just sharing thoughts - I’m, in a way, allowing strangers to get to know me from the inside. And that raises an uncomfortable question: what if, one day, I meet someone who’s already read everything I’ve written and, before I even introduce myself, that person already knows me? Because letting someone truly know me is not something I do easily. In writing, that wall seems to disappear. But is that a conscious choice - or a kind of involuntary exposure?
  There’s a very thin line between writing with authenticity and feeling like you’re emotionally undressing in front of strangers. Sometimes, when I publish a piece, there’s this feeling of “I went too far” - as if I showed more than I wanted to. And even if no one else can tell exactly where fiction ends and reality begins, I can. And that’s enough to make writing feel like a mirror.
  Still, I believe it’s in that space of vulnerability that the power of good writing lies. When we write truthfully - even when it leaves us feeling exposed - there’s a more human, more tangible connection with the reader. And maybe, in the end, writing is just that: the most honest way to listen to ourselves before we let the world hear us.