We all know the parental iron fist which crushes down on us when we’re young : 
don’t lie, and stop making up stories! That is a debilitating blow to the young psyche, why can’t I make up stories? Dreaming up imaginary tales are a necessary act of any writer who dreams to share his stories. Fiction is the act of making up stories, but I try to tell the truth when I do it.
Censorship is lame. When I envision a story in my head, I translate the story to the page just as I see it. If I have a prison inmate who yields from the a poor neighborhood and has a not-so-flattering personality, I’m not going to have him yell “o sugar!” Shit seems like the appropriate response. Sure, some folks may find the words offensive to them, but the story can’t be penalized to the whims of certain fragile eyes. I think we can all relate when watching an older movie, the dialogue is choppy and doesn’t seem real. Darn, dangit and sugar may be perfect phrases for your grandmother or an older character but a murderer most likely will never utter the words.
Racism, sexism and genuine strange points of view are not reflections of the author’s principles but of a true-blue created character. If you know J.T. Harren, an old-school detective with a chip on his shoulder is not a fan of homosexuality, blacks, and likes to beat his wife; working that into his persona will be beneficial to your readers. They will be able to acknowledge his ideas and bigotries.
As writers of fiction we must describe our imaginary worlds as truthful as lies may be.
