November is NaJoPoMo Month, the time for journal-writing. Whether we're blogging or telling stories, we're always writing about ourselves.

You may have heard of Mr Samuel Pepys, the 17th-century blogger. Here's a blog post of his, from his diary:

This morning, it being expected that Colonel Hacker and Axtell should die, I went to Newgate, but found they were reprieved till to-morrow. So to my aunt Fenner’s, where with her and my uncle I drank my morning draft.


So to my father’s, and did give orders for a pair of black baize linings to be made me for my breeches against to-morrow morning, which was done. So to my Lord’s, where I spoke with my Lord, and he would have had me dine with him, but I went thence to Mr. Blackburne, where I met my wife and my Will’s father and mother (the first time that ever I saw them), where we had a very fine dinner. Mr. Creed was also there. This day by her high discourse I found Mrs. Blackburne to be a very high dame and a costly one.


Home with my wife by coach. This afternoon comes Mr. Chaplin and N. Osborn to my house, of whom I made very much, and kept them with me till late, and so to bed.


At my coming home, I did find that The. Turner hath sent for a pair of doves that my wife had promised her; and because she did not send them in the best cage, she sent them back again with a scornful letter, with which I was angry, but yet pretty well pleased that she was crossed.

Now, nobody gets bored reading Pepys. For one thing, the old blowhard is so full of ordinary detail about life in the 17th Century that you can't help getting drawn in. He's a fount of information, most of it totally useless, but also fascinating to the temporal foreigner. What I wanted you to notice, though, was what Pepys said about himself here. Just what kind of person was Pepys, to judge from this blog post? Would you invite him to dinner?

Let's go through and deconstruct, shall we?

1. How do you think Pepys felt when he found out the execution was delayed?
   
   • Sorry for the condemned.
   • Hopeful of an eventual reprieve.
   • Disappointed at the delay.
2. What do you think Pepys' relationship with his social acquaintances was like?
   
   • He was a very loyal friend.
   • He was a dangerous enemy.
   • He was capable of extreme pettiness.
3. Which modern fictional group do you think Pepys would feel most at home with?
   
   • The boys at Don Corleone's house.
   • The staff of The West Wing.
   • Jerry Seinfeld's diner buddies.

It's surprising, isn't it? You know a lot about Samuel Pepys from what he chooses to tell, and not to tell, about his day. He may be a bore, but he's a revealing one. Personally, I wouldn't want him in my living room. So what about you? What does your writing tell people about your tastes, opinions, and personal code of conduct? Whether you like it or not, you're revealing a lot about yourself, even if you think you're only writing fiction.

How do I know, for example, that I would have preferred the company of Patrick McGoohan to that of, say, the writers of the original Mission: Impossible? Both Mission: Impossible and the tv series partly written by Mr McGoohan involved often unrealistic tales of Cold War spying and derring-do. What made them different?

For one thing, Mission: Impossible was obviously written by US Cold War liberals. Meaning, they didn't like Communists one little bit, but considered themselves socially forward-thinking. This comes out in almost every episode. There's a lot of self-conscious talk about human rights. However, I catch them falling into all the lazy thinking typical of most liberals: they like people better in the abstract. And they patronise the life out of everybody.

Oh, and they have the sort of attitudes one would expect toward South Americans and Israelis. Not much subtle thinking, there.

McGoohan and his friends, on the other hand, surprise me. Their take on the silliness of the Cold War spy business is not only refreshingly irreverent – while stopping short of ridiculous parody – but also remarkably nuanced. British foibles are deftly skewered. Some of the target types, such as compromised politicians and over-ambitious businessmen, are very much in evidence today. International affairs are dealt with, not in self-consciously sententious manner, but with sympathy and understanding.

Most remarkable is the attitude Danger Man takes on Nazi-hunters. The episode Judgement Day, in which Drake is stranded in an oasis with rogue Israelis and a wretched war criminal, is an astoundingly subtle examination of ethics and the morality of vengeance. Check it out on Youtube.

When we write, do we do this – tell about ourselves? Oh, yes. We do it all the time. If you read these columns, you know I'm not only crazy as a bedbug, but also somewhere left of the Dalai Lama. Sure you do. And it colours the way you perceive my advice. I can't help telling these things, any more than Samuel Pepys can keep himself from letting us know how much he appreciates a good execution.

Writing is not only a good way for us to share. It's also a way to get to know ourselves better. Go back and read something you've written. Ask yourself: what have I said about myself? Am I proud of what I've said? Would I defend it in the court of public opinion? If I were the reader, would I want to know me?

November can be a good month for self-reflection.

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Dmitri Gheorgheni

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