I'm not the type that fakes credentials to get into grad school or anything (though I did lie on a job application once....got the job).
I lie a little bit every day. It's a thing. I remember, when I was 15, I went on one of those Outward Bound trips. Before leaving for two weeks in the wilderness with strangers, I made a promise to myself that I would try as hard as I could not to lie for as long as possible. It lasted about three days and I was ecstatic. It was the longest I had gone without fibbing, bending the truth, fictionalizing the details.
I've told some doozies. And a million little white lies trail behind me wherever I go. The funny thing is, sometimes, I'll tell the truth and no one will believe what I'm saying. That's when I have to resist the urge to say, "But I'm not lying this time!"
Lady who cried wolf? Right here.
I don't think I'm a liar because I'm a degenerate or because I'm a moral-less prick. My lying doesn't hurt others. I've never caused anyone physical harm or bankruptcy due to my lies.
I am a liar. I am a writer. Of fiction. That is what I do. So the lines are blurred for me.
But what writer isn't a liar?
There needs to be some comfort in that ability to easily fall away from the restrictions of "truth" in order to create a strong fiction.
I think that should be the first lesson in any writing workshop: The truth shall chain you to the ground, the lies shall set you free.