The Responsibility of a Writer

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the responsibility of a writer in times like these. What am I supposed to do when the world itself feels like it’s coming apart?

All I ever really wanted was to put words on a page that people enjoyed. But now I find myself living in a world where I sometimes wonder if tomorrow will be worse than today. What are pretty words in a world of ugliness?

This has been doubly hard for me. I went through a lot of personal hardship last year, and my goal this year was to recommit to being a writer — and to be more vocal about it on social media. But how am I supposed to talk about story structure and worldbuilding when so many of the posts I see are about brutality, dehumanization, and what feels like a rapid descent into illiberalism?

So I come back to the question: What is the responsibility of a writer — of any artist — in times like these?

I think about the things I’ve written. My most recent book is about confronting fear and uncertainty in uncertain times. An unpublished manuscript I worked on centers on the power of stories — not just the ones we tell, but the ones we build our lives around. And sometimes I wonder if that is the role of a writer: to tell the truth with fictional words when so many others are telling lies wrapped in half-truths.

But I worry…

By all rights, we should be immune to this by now. If stories had the power to influence as I have always believed, then this would not be the world we are living in. How can a generation of people who grew up on stories of heroism against evil turn around and throw their lot in with evil when it matters? How does anyone absorb decades of stories about standing up to unjust power and still miss the point so completely? We see ultra–far-right conservatives comparing themselves to Luke Skywalker. We see people who resemble storybook villains exalting themselves as righteous. And how can openly racist people claim to love Star Trek? I mean, that is missing the entire message.

Do they see these stories as nothing more than flashy distractions? Do they not understand that when Indiana Jones punches a Nazi, or when Captain America talks about truth and justice, it’s meant to be more than spectacle? Stories are more than plot and characters. Every story has subtext. Every story carries meaning. And I’ve always believed that readers see past the capes and lasers and spaceships and swords — that they understand there’s a deeper story about what it means to be a good person, about how to make the world better. I thought that was a shared understanding. Lately, I’m not so sure.

When the NSA builds an AI system and names it Skynet, they’ve missed the point. When Silicon Valley creates surveillance tools and names them Palantir, they’ve missed the point. Or when they actively try to emulate The Matrix, Blade Runner, or The Hunger Games and somehow completely miss the dystopian part of those worlds. Many of these people are considered among the smartest in the world, and yet they seem to misunderstand the warnings that stories are trying to give. They miss the morals, the subtext, and the things that are arguably most important about why humans tell stories in the first place.

So I ask again: what is the role of an artist in times like these? If we can’t illuminate truth for those who need it most — especially those in power — what are we supposed to do?

And that’s where the fear comes in.

I’m a father. I’m someone who, despite everything, still loves this country and this life. I worry that writing what I write — speaking the way I want to speak — could jeopardize the people I care about most. But then I see others doing far more than I am, and I know this is not a time to shrink from our responsibilities or our talents.

Everyone has a part to play in making the world better. We all have different strengths. Now is the time to let those strengths shine — to use our light against the darkness around us.

I have a lot of fear right now, as I know many people do. It doesn’t feel like things are getting lighter anytime soon. Resistance is hard. Speaking up is hard. We do what we must, and what we can.

When humanity is made illegal, even small acts of kindness become resistance. And when information is suppressed, using our voice becomes resistance too.

So I will do my best to use my voice — and my humanity — to help the people around me. That’s what I can do as a writer, and as a human being.

I hope everyone out there is staying safe, and holding on to hope — like Samwise always said:
——
It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why.