As I mature, a primary reason for my writing becomes clearer: I write for my sanity.
I’ve stopped listening to the news every morning in the car. Instead I listen to audio books and am hearing the Brontë’s works, one novel at a time. Anne, Emily and Charlotte carpool with me, commenting on the weather and their prose in turns, wondering at the state of the colonies. With the change in guard in America, and how divided the nation has become, I no longer know where the political landmines lay. I seem to step on them in the unlikeliest of situations and am instantly blindsided by people’s insensitive, caustic remarks. The Brontë’s and I watch these same people file into buildings on the weekends, listening to stories from a Jewish teacher who said to do all sorts of things uncomfortable to the modern materialist. The assembled nod along in their hard seats, pay their dues begrudgingly, give their thanks and file out blissfully, idiots among idiots.
I have grown particularly incensed the past two years. The fire is stoking into a furnace and it fuels my scratching quill. I come across news articles online wondering about the rise of antisemitism and the treatment of foreigners, aka people who look different from “us”. I dig out my history books and look around for a man with a funny mustache sneering in mirth. Haven’t we been down this bloody road before–multiple times? And yet we’re still singing the same old tune, still navigating via the same well worn ruts, not caring about the “other” so long as our stomachs are fed and our futures comfortable. Never mind the smoke and ash burning across the way; it’s none of our business.
And so I am channeling this quiet rage of mine into my writing and it is helping me to cope. My goal is to resist censoring myself too much and to finish my novel next week. I am developing my voice. I already have several ideas for future works cooking in my mind and they are waiting on the back porch, cozy in their bundled up coats, wanting to come in and chat for awhile.
Whyever you write, make it known to yourself. Let it stoke your furnace, light your way. Keep going. We need to silence the man with the funny mustache, come what may.
Song: “She Wolf“, by David Guetta featuring Sia