Writers as Witnesses

The world needs us now. Fear can't enter into it.

The Capitol Building, Washington DC

Good morning, writer friends. The new year is here and so is my new resolve. I could pussyfoot around and act like I’m ashamed of or embarrassed by what I’m about to say, explaining my reasons to death, when the very word ‘resolve’ should tell me I mean it.

So I’ll get right to it:

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 it in order to get anything done. I’m a Bambi-lover, a do-gooder, a goddamn snowflake. I believe in social welfare and in social justice. I’m for strong unions, universal healthcare, education for all, and government regulations—when they come from good governing for the people.

I’m whatever you want to make of me but I’m probably not what you think.

I’m not brave. I’m confused. I’m flummoxed. I’m scared to death. About everything. 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, fear them. They’re painful and overwhelming and I know whatever comes out through my fingers will be wholly inadequate, given the enormity of the dangers I see before us.

I thought Writer Everlasting might be a fine respite from the political struggles and disappointments, and I planned for it to center on creative writing. I tried hard to keep to it, and I’m proud of many of the pieces I’ve published here, but my true heart is in working to keep my country safe. In keeping it a democracy. It’s a struggle I can’t ignore. More and more, authoritarianism, prodded on by super-powerful oligarchs, is gaining momentum, and the dangers they threaten are real.

Yesterday, as we commemorated the first Anniversary of the January 6 coup attempt at our Capitol, I sat riveted as the pictures appeared on the screen again, as I listened to first-hand accounts from the people who witnessed it all, from the Capitol police who were mercilessly beaten, from Capitol staff members who hid under desks in locked offices, from congresspeople who feared for their lives, wondering if this was the end of our constitutional government.

I went to bed making plans.

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 I’m going to use it. I have to stop being afraid.

I want this to be a community, I want us to be friends, and I want nothing but honesty here. I want to talk about what writing means to each of us, outside of politics, outside of the turmoil that is life in America these days. But if we can’t avoid the aspects of political writing—which, in this case, is also advocacy writing—we should, by all means, include it in our conversations.

We don’t all think the same, nor should we. Conformity is boring! But since we’re this close, I wanted you to know where I am now. I’m struggling, along with my country, to get it right. If this isn’t something you feel comfortable talking about, I want to know why not. An important part of writing honestly is examining your own discomfort. What stops you from writing what you think?

If politics isn’t your thing, how about citizenship? What does it take to be a good citizen? What are the benefits of owning your citizenship in the country you love—or hate, as the case may be? What are the consequences of ignoring the firestorm before you, choosing, instead, to leave it to others?

This sounds like a lecture, and I’m sorry. I’m tired. This eternal fight exhausts me, but more than that, it infuriates me. For each step forward we take a dozen steps back. It doesn’t have to be like that.

As writers, our voices hold power. As writers, we’re stronger as a community. As writers, we must care. It’s what we do best. We care.

I’ve lost a few readers lately; I’m assuming over this. I’m okay with that. We’ll never all agree, but if we’re going to work together as a community of writers, we’ll have to respect each other’s differences. I promise to try my best, but this is who I am, and this is my platform. One thing’s for sure: you’ll never have to guess where I am on the American experience. I’m where I’ve always been.

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(I’ve created two sections for Writer Everlasting—Creative Writing and Politics and Advocacy. If you’re a subscriber, you can choose to opt out of receiving either one in your inbox, or you can read the newsletter as it is. Your choice. I love that Substack allows that!)

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I’ll always be enchanted by creatives who write to knock my socks off, and I’ll be celebrating them here. We’ll talk about every aspect of creative writing during the next year and beyond, but I’ll also be sharing my thoughts on American politics. It’s too much a part of me to pretend it’s not a major aspect of my writing.

I’ve sectioned off ‘Advocacy’ from ‘Creative Writing’ so you’ll have choices about where you want to go and what you want to read.

I’ll have more announcements in the next newsletter. Thanks so much for being here. I hope you’ll stick around, but if you don’t, I understand. These are troubling times. We do what we have to do. I want only what’s best for us all.

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