Pens Can Be Swords

I think that I have decided to write under an assumed pen name. Perhaps only for memoir, but if I feel comfortable with it, I could expand it to be my new name. I am at an unfamiliar crossroads with writing to be free and writing to imprison my family. What kind of mother would purposely write about her sexual exploits when there is the chance that her son would read it? What kind of daughter would write about her hateful parents, especially when death has removed the chance for one of them to submit a rebuttal? What kind of wife would tell, in great detail, how she chose to marry another man in another life, or to show her husband's weaknesses as comedic fodder? Who would do that?

Well, I could name a ton with strong literary reason to do so, but I can't add my own name to that list just yet. The feeling of what "others" would think, or how hurt my family would be makes me pause. Now, a pen name could be easily added to that list. The fact that I had a lucrative secret is intriguing, but it puts me in the category with all of the other women writers that couldn't start a writing career with their own name, so they had to assume another's. Those used to be the women that I pitied most in lit. class. What journey has my life taken that would welcome that silence?

I have my ideas, but I don't trust my voice anymore. Not with my name attached. My mother informed me that I would be leading my family into Jerry Springer territory, and such reckless things could cause shame and even suicide. So, the pen can be a sword sometimes, I guess. I just didn't know that I would be the one holding the fatal weapon.