I made a post yesterday that was somewhat the literary equivalent of nursing an emotional skinned knee. I fully expected the post to be skimmed and ignored; I certainly didn't expect to be read, much less so very well received. It is true the kindness of strangers often outweighs that of friends. And so I pridefully snuck sticking my tongue out to those who, while they didn't push me down, sort of clumsily watched me fall.

What was unexpected, was that because of this moment of self-indulgence, the post unexpectedly met the eyes of one who has never seen me fall without kneeling down to say, "Are you okay? Aw, I love you." She is a childhood friend of mine who is more pure and full of kindness than anyone I know. Just as the strangers soothed me in a way no long-standing friend could, this friend soothed me is a way no stranger could.

She wrote to me, "I like that comment by "thenewgreen." You're not the only writer friend I have, and I've found myself unable to read any of my friends' works. I don't know why. I've identified a fear reaction in myself, though I don't think it's fear of looking at the person's heart, as was suggested. It might be closer to fear of misinterpreting the writing. When I don't know the author, I can make the story whatever I want; I can make it personal. I don't know. At any rate, I hope you can forgive me for not having read it even after all these years and can take comfort in the fact that apparently you're not the only one whose friends hesitate to read. I love you. (If it's not too arrogant to say that.)

I am inexplicably dumbfounded that I didn't realize this. What I had taken for apathy or contempt in so many people was all this time fear.

Suddenly I understand the dichotomy friends of artists face, and it seems to me to be centered around responsibility. We all take responsibility not to harm our friends with thoughtless acts. But it is the artist's responsibility not to be harmed by the fan. What then, can you possibly do when you are the partaker of your friend's art? You suddenly cannot take both the role of the friend and the fan.

To that I can only say, lean on me. Let me take the responsibility from you. Let me dissolve the ambiguity within you. And let me tell you why.

It is a philosophy I gained from Modern Art. The modern art movement, or so I am told by my art history friends, was about freedom from being wrong. The art had no identifiable form, no resemblance to anything, no notable meaning, nothing to grasp and declare "Aha I've got it!" Instead, people would say, "Is it supposed to be this or is it supposed to be that?" And to that, the answer is, Yes.

The point was not to figure out the meaning, or message. The point was to invoke a something. An anything! And because of that, even invoking nothing at all became a success. Whatever someone took away from the piece was...

Valid.

That is the view, the responsibility, that I take up and cherish when I am read. Yes, as I was writing I had intended messages, meanings, nuances, even inflections. But that is what I get when I read it. And let me tell you, I have never been so thrilled as to learn what incredible messages and insights others have taken away. Things I never thought of, things I never dreamed of, things that could spawn whole new stories to validate them!

I cannot tell you not to fear. And I cannot tell you to automatically trust. All I can say is that the reason I want to be read is so that I may know what messages you took from it, what meanings you found, what nuances you read into, even what inflections you thought the characters must have used. There is no wrong, even if a novel is not part of the modern art movement. And even if you get nothing at all, to me at least, it. Is. Valid.

Shiko, my deepest and Lord knows my sweetest friend, I now understand more fully what it really was I was asking of you, and thank you for making me realize the difficult situation I put you in. I love you too. You have my permission, and my full love with it, to read and take whatever personal interpretation you please, or to read it in freedom by never telling me that you did, or simply and in full confidence to never read it at all. All, all of it, is valid.