I need to tell it, raw and unformulated: the glorious, gory truth. I don’t need to sugarcoat anything, I don’t need an angle (trust me, the experience itself is specific enough for me), and I don’t need people to relate to it. I was writing for an audience, puffing out phrases I thought people could relate to. I get caught up in buzz words, writing formulas, and editing out the parts I don’t think readers will find interesting.
But I wasn’t satisfied because I wasn’t telling the whole truth. I’ve come up with three different articles, all radically different, and I suppose I could have just surrendered and published one of them. Over the course of two months, I’ve found myself slumped over a keyboard quite a bit, trying to find the words to paint a whole, complete picture of living a life as someone who was raped by her father. By Kaitlyn Jones Updated January 28, 2019
