is a convenient trap for writers.
I think John Irving had something to say about it once in that overly autobiographical novel Garp.
I once tried to write myself into the story. I got lost in the plot for years – it proved a dangerous thing to try to impose narrative structure on the chaotic and bumpy lumpy matter of my life-story. The map becomes the territory.
If I continue this log, I will try to avoid that trap.
On the other hand, life is the only thing worth writing about, right? What good is fiction? Haven’t we moved past the age of moral instruction through fable?
Is not the Truth sufficient?