How do you deal with the dirty secret of mental illness in a memoir?

You may remember this post about a seriously disturbed character of mine and whether or not I should share any of her story. I know I’m talking about a fiction piece, but I still feel like it might fall under at least some of the advice mentioned here:

How do you deal with the dirty secret of mental illness in a memoir?.

Then again, people go to fiction for different things than they do non-fiction, but it doesn’t feel like fiction to me. Jack and Z and everyone seem like people I once knew, and sharing their stories feels intensely personal.

Of course, Z would give me permission to “scare the straights” in a heartbeat, but still. Interesting to think about.

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