On Politics and Creativity

First we have to get them to pay attention.

Photo by Teresa Collins on Unsplash

"Hard times are coming, when we’ll be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies to other ways of being, and even imagine real grounds for hope. We’ll need writers who can remember freedom – poets, visionaries – realists of a larger reality. Right now, we need writers who know the difference between production of a market commodity and the practice of an art."

--Ursula K Le Guin, National Book Awards Acceptance Speech

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NOTE: I wrote a variation of this a couple of years ago and I’m repeating some of it here, not just to emphasize my own resolve, but also to encourage other creative writers to speak out when something political or controversial needs examining. It’s the writers who best serve as witnesses chronicling our times—how we got here, what it all means, and what we must do now.

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I built Writer Everlasting mainly as a salon for creative writers, so it may seem strange to some of you that I seem to have abandoned the ‘creative’ part. Not at all. I’ve just shifted it. Some of the most creative pieces I’ve read lately have been political opinion pieces. So much brilliance out there, as hundreds if not thousands of smart, thoughtful writers try to make sense of the unbelievable events of this past election season.

I’m in the throes of it myself. It haunts me day and night. I’m madly trying to figure out what just happened, so when I’m not writing about that awful election, I’m reading about it. It’s all-consuming, and I’ve given in to it.

I rarely watch TV news anymore, but I can’t say the same for wandering the internet. I spend a lot of time here. Maybe too much, but the give-and-take is irresistible, and, truthfully, I need it in order not to feel alone. (Spare me the internet lectures. I’m a grown-up now.)

I’m finding comfort in following those writers who push my buttons and fill my needs—those who are speaking to me and for me. And especially those who have made resistance and opposition an art.

In these perilous days ahead, in order to get our messages out, many of us who have shifted from the creative to the political are clinging to the need to be true to who we are. There are plenty of people out there who would like nothing better than to be the one who brings us down. We’ll need to leave our fears behind and find our courage. And we’ll need to do it while staying creative.

Don’t panic now. It can be done.

Throughout our history we’ve seen and heard political views from musicians, artists, and writers who have moved in and out of their comfortable professional lives in order to advocate for what they believe in. They did it knowing it could hurt their careers, but witnessing history and seeking the truth in words or song or art comes from a natural place inside; the part that makes them who they are.

We’ve seen it from Woody Guthrie to E.B White, to Will Rogers, to John Lennon, to Maya Angelou, to Steven King, to Taylor Swift. They take stands when the times call for it. They capture and explain America in ways that draw us in. (I’ve left many out. Feel free to fill in the blanks.)

But what about the rest of us. Who are we? What do we have to offer?

As for me, I’m a political animal by choice, and that’ll never go away. I don’t just lean liberal, I consume liberalism. I live, breathe, and will die on the sword of liberalism. The kind of liberalism that transcends politics, though I’ve had to learn to live with the politics in order to get anything done.

I’m a Bambi-lover, a do-gooder, a freaking snowflake. I believe in social welfare and in social justice. I’m for strong unions, universal healthcare, education for all, and a government that rules and regulates for the good of the people.

I’m not brave—not by a long shot. I’m confused. I’m flummoxed. I’m scared to death. I’m old and my mobility is limited, but my brain still functions around 89.5% of the time.

I’m a writer who feels things deeply, yet there are times I fear unleashing the thoughts within me. Yes, I fear them. They’re painful and overwhelming and I know, given the enormity of the dangers I see before us, whatever comes will be wholly inadequate. And not always welcome.

My true heart is in working to keep my country safe. In keeping it a democracy. It’s a struggle I can’t ignore. Authoritarianism, prodded on by super-powerful oligarchs, is gaining momentum, and the dangers they threaten are real. I want to help. I want to do everything I can in my own small way, not so much because I think I can make a difference, but because I have to live with myself. I can’t turn my back on us now.

I have a voice and even if it shakes, I’m going to use it.

In my own spaces, at my two publications, Constant Commoner and Writer Everlasting, I want to keep our communities strong; I want us to stay friends. I want us to be honest, but in ways considerate of our different viewpoints.

We don’t all think the same, nor should we. Conformity is anathema to creativity, and if we’re anything here, we’re creative.

I’m struggling to get it right, and it’s obvious I’m not alone, but the angst is palpable. Our world is a scary place right now. These are not normal times. They’ll require careful thought and calls to action, and the guts to say it all out loud in ways that draw people in.

That’s where our creativity comes in. What can we say that hasn’t been said before? How do we say it in order to be seen and heard? Can there be magic in words politic?

Well, we come at it the way we come at anything else—cleverly, artfully, individually. If the times are intimidating, putting our thoughts in print shouldn’t be. We’re writers. We’ve been in control of our words before. From essayists to humorists to poets, we’ve learned to put our own slant on everything we write.

Creative political writing fits right in there. It’s first person. It’s opinion. It’s compelling. It’s YOU if you want it to be.

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