Public Display

Lisa Simpson: ”I don’t understand, Dad. Why must we share our flaws with the world?”

Homer: “Because we’ll make lots of money!”

And with that, The Simpsons became the latest victims of the lure of reality TV last night in an episode that saw a wife swap turn… well, very funny.

I don’t often watch The Simpsons with evilkev, but it was quite a coincidence that I did yesterday, because I had been inspired by a post made by Bernita to talk about the shrinking gap between our private and public lives.

I know I shared here once about how, discussing a scene I was writing, involving sex, Kevin had cringed and said, “My MOTHER will read that,” to which I responded, “And she’ll think we have sex?”

It isn’t just the fictional writing that runs the risk of blurring lines for writers. Many of us have online presence, and there are aspects of ourselves that are there for all the world to see.

Which should probably have me very, very worried.

The truth is, when I first started posting on forums and such, I never even considered anyone would be paying attention.

It wasn’t long before I discovered people were watching, and in some cases with more than casual interest. I received emails from strangers asking for my opinions on the most bizarre things, referencing some off-hand remark I’d made somewhere.

At times, I’ve thought I was a complete idiot for not using a fake name.

But I’m a very open person, and something about the idea of having some secret online identity that nobody could connect to the real person seemed wrong, like I was a fraud.

Like nothing more than a cheap ploy to protect me from my own big mouth.

Now I have to consider the fact that anyone can find me online, and read my opinions on a wide range of things. For good or bad, better or worse, a lot of one aspect of Sandra Ruttan is out there for the world to evaluate.

Some of the comments that come up relatively high on a search for me include:

“And here's me thinking you aren't supposed to drink coke...” Wed. March 22 at Daniel’s blog

“John, I bet Stuart's singing "You Can't Hurry Love" in the shower right now...”
over at Stuart’s.

“I'd've bet money on the porn, but since you're hedging maybe it was the ponies.

4/12 for me.” Bet you’re all dying to take a look here now.

“Russel, are Bitchtits and Epileptic Bambi any good with pies?” Don’t ask.

“One man? So you're the bitch? Or do you have a different word for it over there?” This time at James’s blog, but about Stuart. Again. It’s like Stuart’s my only hobby.

Well, you get the idea. Clearly, the blabbermouth is known far and wide, and has a tendency to say things that make her husband blush and grown men cry.

Have I posted things I’ve regretted? Yes, on occasion. Usually on forums when I’ve completely lost my patience with someone being ignorant and offensive.

And it isn’t that what I necessarily said was wrong, but I just regret the anger that went with it.

Have people ever suggested I take something down off my blog?

Yes. Did I? No.

In a way, this is the ultimate trial run for me. The truth of the matter is that I’m a really shy person, initially. I mean, I’m very sociable, but the act of meeting people and getting to the point where I’m comfortable enough to be open with them…

Let’s just say the online introductions make it much easier for me.

This is something for all of you to consider, though. Especially the writers. When I started my blog, I didn’t have a clue why I was doing it. But if you’ve come on with the idea that you’re using it to promote yourself and your writing, then you have to make decisions about what you’re going to talk about and what you won’t touch, and how much of yourself you feel comfortable exposing.

Truthfully, when people close parts of themselves off online, others do see it. Stuart has been my role model. He’s both personal and witty and has made himself less of the six-foot-Scottish-Adonis that he is by being warm and vulnerable with his readers.

I could never hope to be a six-foot-Scottish-Adonis, unless we’re talking width and sex change, and for both the desire is lacking.

But the warmth I like.

And the vulnerability is something I can take advantage of.

A serious warning though: Experience has taught me you never know who is paying attention. I’ve had emails from people I would never have expected to hear from – some total strangers, some role models for me, people I really admire, some really bizarre and creepy ones that left me a bit spooked. It’s something to consider when you start out, and something to remember as you move towards publication. A part of you is owned by the public when your name is on a book, and only you can decide how much will be out there for them to know about, but once you put stuff out, it’s done and gone, and it’s much harder to tighten the boundaries.

For those who wonder at my openness, I can only say this. Much of what I’ve put out there could be put into the public domain by others. And whenever anyone originally from a small town does anything remotely interesting, there are plenty of people who will talk.

I’ve decided to control the information by talking about it myself. I feel better with the idea that there are no sudden shocks coming to anyone down the road, that I know of. If there are, I’ll be shocked with you.


A Newfoundland couple, both well into their 80s, go to a sex therapist's office.

The doctor asks, "What can I do for you?"

The man says, "Will you watch us have sexual intercourse?"

The doctor raises both eyebrows, but he is so amazed that such an elderly couple is asking for sexual advice that he agrees.

When the couple finishes, the doctor says, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with the way you have intercourse." He thanks them for coming, he wishes them good luck, charges them $50 and he says goodbye.

The next week, however, the couple returns and asks the sex therapist to watch again. The sex therapist is a bit puzzled, but agrees.

This happens several weeks in a row. The couple makes an appointment, has intercourse with no problems, pays the doctor, then leave.

Finally, after 5 or 6 weeks of this routine, the doctor says, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Just what are you trying to find out?"

The old man says, "We're not trying to find out anything.

She's married and we can't go to her house. I'm married and we can't go to my house.

The Holiday Inn charges $98.

The Hilton charges $139.

We do it here for $50, and I get $43 back from Blue Cross."