The world is too much with us right now. 2021 has not fulfilled the promise of a fresh start, a new day.

As we grieve the divisions and violence and suffering that cloud our world, and the Black Lives Matter movement converges on another Martin Luther King Jr. Day with no meaningful systemic change, and scientists predict ever more dire consequences for our failure to address climate change, the voice of conscience screams: Don’t just sit there – do something!

Here’s the thing: I believe that (regardless of the position of one’s derriere - that is, even if you are “just sitting there”), writing is Doing Something.

You don’t need to look further than Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail to see that this is true of non-fiction writing. Poems by Maya Angelou and Amanda Gorman illustrate that truth about verse, as well.

But for those who doubt that the pen that inks fiction is also mightier than the sword, let me explain.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up. (Thank you, Inigo Montoya).

Every story has A Point. Fairy tales, historical novels, and sci fi. Weighty works by legends like Toni Morrison. Pleasant “beach reads.” Every single story.

Whether or not the author intended to relay a message, whether or not the author articulated the message to themselves in advance, whether or not the message is express or simply implied in the plot and character arcs – every story arises out of and conveys something about the author’s understanding of what it means to be human.

Sometimes the Point is to inspire our better angels. You know, as in Courage is doing the right thing even when you’re afraid. That kind of thing. Reduced to a short phrase, the Point often sounds overly-simplistic and trite, which is why communicating the idea through story is so much more effective.

Other stories give us a glimpse into the darkness that lies just below the surface, the fears that motivate the senseless cruelty we see in the headlines. Often that looks like: Everyone else has more than me; it’s time I got mine. Understanding our demons is the first step to bridging the divide, and thus, perhaps, to healing.

Still other stories serve to illustrate the uglier aspects of reality – a tee-shirt worthy Sh*t happens. Even to good people. (Apologies for the near-cursing). These stories remind us we are not alone in experiencing disappointment, defeat, and tragedy. Sometimes it helps to remember that the world can be unkind to princes and paupers alike.

I never intended to write about writing. My plan was to focus on the continuing adventures of Memsy and Kopano in Brillig. (Lengthy aside: there are, of course, many Points in the Brillig story, as you’ve no doubt noticed if you’ve been following it. I believe kids’ books should incorporate the tough issues of our day, including racism and gender stereotypes and LGBTQ discrimination – and now, the pandemic. Also, I subscribe to the theory underpinning many of my favorite British shows, that diverse perspectives should be a normal part of every story, and that by creating a fictional world in which all are accepted for who they are we may in turn forge the reality we hope to see.)

And so I sit here tapping away on my computer, joining my voice with others who have taken up the (metaphorical) pen as our contribution to solving the seemingly intractable problems we face. I leave it to history to decide whether my little scribblings have ever done anyone any good, but for now I will continue to make the effort, using the best tools in my toolbox (again, metaphorical – I am accident-prone, thanks to my proclivity for daydreaming, and no one ever should let me near a hacksaw or power drill).

Write On, friends! Together we may “move past indecision to action” and “find new ways to speak for peace . . . and justice”!

Postscript: Friend, author, and amazing editor Charlotte Rains Dixon has a delightful post describing how writers can stoke the fires of their muse - a great resource for fellow writings hoping for a dab of inspiration: http://bit.ly/3qcXnvn/.

Second postscript: final quote is an excerpt from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s April 4, 1967 speech “A Time to Break Silence.”

Images by: Suzy Brooks (people looking at wall with quote ); Aaron Burden (fountain pen); Jakayla Toney (BLM sign); Kevin Yudhistira Alloni (graveyard);
Janine Robinson (thumbnail image);
Project 290 (social media sharing image of MLK’s profile)