Writing one’s life… First, let’s clear up any misunderstandings. This book is not a guide on how to transform an ordinary life into a thrilling narrative. Nor is it a method for spicing up your existence so that you’ll have exciting stories to share with your grandchildren one day. It is simply an autobiography—or more precisely, an auto-fiction—because recounting one’s life inevitably involves revisiting it, if not outright reinventing it.
One day, I was having a coffee with a neighbour when I began sharing an episode from my life. He listened with wide eyes, and after a while, knowing I’m a writer, he interrupted me: “Is what you’re telling me true, or are you making it up as you go along?” For a brief moment, I confess, even I was struck by doubt. Of course, all writers are liars—but sometimes, as Aragon put it, they lie truthfully. That’s what prompted me to write this book. Yes, this narrative is written in the first person, to tell my truth. All my truth? Nothing but my truth? I wouldn’t swear to it. After all, I am a writer. In this book, I recount how I got to where I am—not as an example to follow for anyone aspiring to become an author, but simply as my story.
Writing one’s life is, above all, about claiming that part of freedom which alone gives us the feeling of truly being alive. I found my freedom through writing, which is also a form of deliverance. But one can write one’s life in many ways—through actions as much as through words. Here is how I attempted to write mine, preferably choosing, like Robert Frost’s traveler, the paths less traveled.
