Anyone following my Twitter knows that I’ve been coming out as a bit of a political junkie. I’ve hesitated being too open about this in the past because I wasn’t sure how it would go over.
But, as I try and communicate more and be more personal and not just this unknown entity producing books, I started to feel dishonest. Plus, being someone who doesn’t really love sharing personal woes, it left me with little to talk about.
The next couple of manuscripts I’m working on are not just the romance and sex but also are thrillers and political. So I don’t think my punditry would’ve remained in the closet long either way. So I come out now as a liberal. Progressive. Card-carrying member of the ACLU.
Okay, there are no cards. I lied about that part. But I do make yearly donations.
Now, I don’t mind debating my beliefs. I enjoy political discussions, particularly over dinner with a bottle of wine to lubricate the conversation, so long as everyone can agree to disagree and go home as friends. What I get, on occasion, is, “This is America, love it or leave it.”
Here’s the thing. I live in a nice house that I like. If the roof springs a leak, I don’t enjoy the deluge or move out. I try to fix the leak.
That’s the point of all of this. Everyone has their own idea of how to fix the leak, or even different ideas on what would be an attractive addition to the house. Since we all share the house, we have to work out a compromise. It isn’t always pretty. In fact, sometimes it’s downright ugly and no one’s happy with it (o hai Citizens United!) But it’s still ours and even if it embarrasses me or makes me feel downright ill (indefinite detention anyone?) it’s still a nice house and worth repairing.