A recent turn of events has led me to contemplate the many forms of censorship writers encounter. There is, of course, the external forces – censorship driven by the market, your audience, the FCC, etc. And then there’s self-censorship.
Sometimes, we self-censor based on the audience we have in mind. When I’m writing for an audience of elementary-age children, I will naturally exercise a certain kind of self-censorship. But even there, where the parameters ought to be pretty obvious, you can run into hazy territory. I may be okay with witches or ghoblins, or stories about death or divorce or other ugly realities that kids experience. Someone else might think these topics inappropriate or unacceptable. I’ve been working on a highly abridged version of MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM for my drama club of 4th-6th graders. The word “ass” appears in reference to the donkey’s head that Bottom wears. But, Shakespeare being Shakespeare, the double-meaning is played upon liberally. Do I cut these references? It seems a crime. But parents may complain.
There is a deeper kind of self-censorship, the kind Virginia Woolf refers to as the Angel on your shoulder, the voice that tells you not to upset your family or friends or polite society by writing about darker issues, or intimate subjects, or family secrets, etc. Woolf has a wonderful essay in which she describes killing off this Angel as a necessary act, especially for women writers who are particularly susceptible to its form of self-censorship.
Can censorship be a good thing? A necessary evil? Or just plain evil? Which kind of censor is the hardest to beat – the outside one or the inside one?