No Permission Granted for Literary Freedom
The Essence of Literary Freedom
Critics will whisper.
Eyes will judge.
A shorter version exists on Medium—
it hits hard, but not fully.
The full manifesto—
the one untamed, unbound, unapologetic—
lives here.
This is where my voice refuses compromise.
Venture to Medium if you dare,
but the heart of the truth breathes only on sigrid.one.
I don’t care if people call my memoir too dark.
Too negative.
Too mundane.
Too combative.
Too provocative.
Darkness is not a flaw—it is truth.
Too many writers silence themselves.
Afraid of judgment.
Afraid of “what others will think.”
Memoir is not exhibitionism.
Memoir is authenticity.
It is the raw inner voice of a human being facing themselves.
Memoir Writing Without Compromise
Imagine a conversation where people see you through a preconceived notion.
They comment on your voice.
They critique how you express yourself.
This is the inevitable truth of being exposed to the public eye as a writer.
You are naked.
Vulnerable.
Seen in your entirety.
Yes, I am loud.
Yes, I am unapologetic.
I don’t care.
To all memoir writers—new or seasoned—we are voices to be recognized,
whether the public, publicists, or readers approve or not.
A “code of ethics” for memoirs? Absurd.
Gossip has no code, yet it exists.
Friction.
Envy.
Clashes.
Life is full of them.
So is writing about them.
Why Writers Need Creative Sovereignty
Memoirs exist to show what fairy tales cannot:
the human heart, unflinching.
Truth is uncomfortable.
Truth is messy.
Without darkness, there is no light.
Without shadow, there is no shape.
To deny the shadow is to deny life.
Yes, I write about being messed up.
About being hurt.
About hurting others.
That is life.
That is truth.
If reputation matters more than reality, write under a pseudonym.
Protect yourself.
But do not demand I silence mine.
Memoir is sovereignty.
Memoir is truth.
Memoir is mine.
Truth, Shadow, and Literary Freedom
Art, like memoir, can reveal hidden truths.
Truth is often ugly.
There is no universal “code of ethics” for art, memoir, conversation, or gossip.
Life is complex.
Human hearts are messy.
Memoirs—and art—reflect that complexity.
It is not up to anyone to judge whether it is ethical to write.
Nor to decide if any creation is ethical.
If it does not resonate, move on.
Stop judging.
Stop criticizing.
Expression has its own purpose, independent of approval.
Judgment and the Writer’s Voice
Spirituality is personal.
It is lived, not measured.
Each path is unique.
Each truth is discovered.
Each experience—shared or not—is theirs to claim.
Those still dwelling on perception.
On public opinion.
They are attuned to the world more than I am.
I do not mix with the world.
I do not mesh with compromises.
I do not want anyone to misunderstand this purity:
this creation,
this living of the raw truth of existence,
this progression of existence.
I am not bound by others’ judgments or publicists’ opinions.
This is pure sovereignty—
free from other people’s wills and intentions.
What is theirs to understand is theirs alone.
On Judgment
Your existence is judged.
But does it matter?
Judgments existed long before you were born.
Relentless.
Ancient.
Whether you are famous or unknown,
judgments persist.
They can be eternal.
They can be fleeting.
It depends on how you meet them.
Get hurt—
but seek not from the outside.
Heal yourself from within.
Strengthen your resilience to people.
Humanity is judgmental and ugly.
People are opinionated creatures.
Creatures of intellect.
Creatures of curiosity.
Creatures of persistence.
Judgments are mirrors—
mirrors of stubbornness.
Of conformity.
Of standard-setting.
Judgment comes in the end—
if you believe.
God.
The Divine.
Forces that see through all things.
They endure the truth,
armed with the tool of discernment.
Not because they claim to be right.
But because they embody the truth.
In embodiment, we live in the truth.
As memoir writers, to embody the truth
means we do not embellish.
We are frank.
We are open.
Unapologetic Memoir: Living Your Truth
To walk the path unbothered by others is a lifetime of privilege and blessing.
To live free.
To live unencumbered.
Those who bully.
Those who control.
Those who manipulate.
Those who twist the truth—
bending it to their own intentions.
Souls consumed by envy.
I write.
I create.
I live.
I owe nothing.
And no one owns my truth.
I don’t write to please.
I don’t write to seek validation.
I live in the irony—
being the dinosaur of the world,
while watching others talk about modern life.
I write.
I live.
I answer to no one.
Nobody owes me an answer.
I belong to the void.
I colour the void with true colors in this universe.
My truth is mine.
Always.
No permission granted.
No apologies owed.
I am unowned.
I am unbound.
I am sovereign.
I am an untamed writer.
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