When I checked in with one of my writing friends last week, the answer I got was, “I haven’t written in months. It all seems so futile.” Another friend, who writes romance novels, said, “I’m too depressed to write. I don’t even see how the world needs my books anymore.”
They aren’t the only writers I know who are having a slump or a block or a crisis. Whatever you want to call it, the more I talked about this with my friends, the more I saw a common theme in the nature of that obstruction. Everywhere I turned, writers were telling me that they didn’t feel like their work mattered.
In times of turmoil, it can feel like your fluffy rom-com or your cozy mystery or your picture book about hamsters isn’t important. It’s not tackling the big issues, you say. Or maybe you’re saying, I’m not writing world-changing fiction. If that’s the thought behind your current writing slump, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.
Both the Talmud and the Quran put forth the idea that if you save one person, you’re saving humanity. Every person is a microcosm of the human race, and if your book can save one person, it is important.
I’m the last person to offer pep talks or optimistic platitudes. I’m not here to tell you that everything will be okay. Quite possibly several things will not be okay. Quite possibly terrible things are coming. What I am here to say is that writing matters. Books matter in a way that transcends empty platitudes embroidered on pillows.
Books matter, because they save people. I know they can save people because books have saved me more than once. My freshman year in college was a brutal experience. I’d just lost someone I loved very much and, as a result, stumbled into two ill-advised relationships. At sixteen, I was in over my head socially and academically. I took refuge in the library, quite literally. I hid in the stacks at all hours, reading. It was there that I found Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. In one of the darkest times of my life, when I’d stopped believing in love and hope and wonder, I found a book that made me believe again. I may have flunked that semester, but I am completely sincere when I say that book gave me the strength to come back the next semester and succeed.
While thinking about this question, I ended up talking to a lot of people about how books saved them, and I want to share some of those, simply to illustrate the breadth of the books that save people. Some were fairly obvious and shared. My childhood Sunday School teacher, my friend who’s a drug addiction counselor, and my death row pen pal all cited the Bible. Many of those shared books, however, were less profound. Several friends, including Dee Garretson, who writes middle grade fiction, cited E.L. Konigsburg’s From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler as a “lifesaver.” It was for me, too, as it provided a window into possible escape routes from unhappy childhood moments.
Other books were literal lifesavers. Poet and teacher Erin Mansur remembers finding a copy of Elie Wiesel’s Night…
“on a dusty bookshelf in the attic of the homeless shelter we were staying in. I was fourteen and suicidal. I knew what my future was going to be. Poverty and addiction. But I read this book about a boy who survived Auschwitz. He survived his time in Hell and I thought maybe I might, too.”
Some lifesaving books were less common, but just as powerful for that personal connection. Rose Lemberg, SFF writer and Nebula and Crawford finalist, says Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Left Hand of Darkness is the book that saved them.
“It offered me a vision of possibilities I hadn’t known existed. It was the first time I saw representation of non-binary people.”
Aspiring novelist Barry Wynn says that Barbara Leonie Picard’s One Is One helped him realize in middle school that being “sensitive” wasn’t a curse or a recipe for helplessness.
For horror writer Danielle DeVor, the book that saved her during her adolescence was…
“a vampire paranormal romance called Blood Thirst by L.A. Freed. I was going through a lot of bullying at the time, and the MC is a bit of an outcast. I have re-read that book so many times over the years that I have had 3 paperbacks fall apart.”
Nor is it always a specific book that rescues people. Sometimes, it’s just books. Kell Andrews, who writes picture books and middle grade fiction says:
“Books save me every day, but for me it’s a matter of constant supply rather than one particular. I need hot and cold running books.”
Tracey Martin, author of young adult and fantasy novels, only recently started reading romance novels, “as a result of going through cancer treatments,” she says.
“I wanted and needed escapist books that came with a guaranteed happily ever after.”
Now, if you’re still thinking that published books are somehow more important than what you’re writing, I want to assure you that writing matters, whether it’s published or not.
Clovia Shaw, who writes and occasionally publishes fantasy novels, says:
“Writing lets me fill my head with better things than what naturally roll around in there. Writing lets you travel without being able to afford travel. It costs nothing, but results in literal worlds upon worlds. Writing is control, but it’s freedom, too.”
Even if you never intend to share it with other people, your writing is of value. As long as it gives you somewhere to go and helps you understand the world, it matters. If you only have to save one person to save humanity, then saving yourself counts.
Do you have a book that greatly influenced or even saved you?
About Bryn Greenwood
BRYN GREENWOOD is a fourth-generation Kansan, one of seven sisters, and the daughter of a mostly reformed drug dealer. She is the NYT bestselling author of The Reckless Oath We Made, All the Ugly and Wonderful Things, Last Will, and Lie Lay Lain. She lives in Lawrence, Kansas.
Thank You for this post Bryn. It was something I needed to hear.
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk got me through a rough patch by giving me the idea that I don’t have to listen to anyone except myself.
Hi James. Fight Club is my favorite novel by a living author. I’m actually fortunate enough to currently be doing a 10-week writing workshop led by the brilliant (and generous and kind) Chuck Palahniuk. At next Monday’s session, I’ll make mention of your comment — to remind Chuck of the positive impact his transgressive nihilism has on people’s lives. ; )
Yes, please do so Greg.
I’ve heard of that workshop, and would like to attend someday.
Great book, and it also carries this message that you always have the power to do something about your situation, even if that means bringing down society as we know it. ;)
You rock, Bryn Greenwood!
Your post just proved its own message. How many people did you save with this one today? I’ll wager it was MANY. Well done!
I hope everybody who needs a reminder that writing is important work gets it.
I can relate to Kell Andrews who needs a constant supply rather than one particular book. I’m like that. When my to-be-read pile gets too small I have to replenish it. I love the quiet calm of libraries and walking among the stacks knowing I’ll never run out of reading material. If I can’t buy them, I can borrow them.
What keeps me going when I feel like I’m wasting my time writing what no one needs to read, is a personal letter I received from the parent of a teen who read my first novel. She said he’d hated reading but that my book (he had to read it for school) changed all that. She thanked me, me of all people, for his renewed interest in reading. My novel may not have been profound or earth shattering but I believe it was a gate, a gate to reading something that might change his world. And that’s fine with me and, in fact, sustains me when I’m down.
Thanks for reminding me, Bryn. Great post.
That’s a great thing to have on hand–a reminder that your book found one of the people who needed it most.
Powerful and engaging post, Bryn. Really, great stuff.
I write darkly comedic suspense novels I never thought would save anyone — just entertain them and hopefully make them laugh. But I guess entertainment and laughter go farther than I imagined, as a number of readers of late have expressed how much my books have helped get them through awful times.
The fact that I get to kill people on pages AND save people who read them — all while working in my underwear and sipping bourbon — makes me one of the luckiest loners alive.
Going to work on my upcoming novel the rest of the morning. Thanks for reminding me who I’m writing for.
Best,
GL
Honestly, comedy can be even more important in dark times. Anything to take your mind off the stressful and troubling things going on in the world. Happy writing!
Heartening essay, Bryn. I’ve written several essays for WU that allude both to my belief in the applicability of my own genre (epic fantasy) to real world issues, and to my conviction that stories are even more important in turbulent times. But, I must admit, my confidence in my convictions has been pretty easily shaken lately.
I’m not alone in my recognition of the similarities in the politics of my own fiction to the increasing turbulence of world events. In fact, a writer friend who has read and offered critique wrote me to ask if the near absurdity of the political scene makes me feel as though my work is not fantastic enough, or has even been rendered quaint. I consider it a plausible concern. Leading to an occasion bout with the “why bother?” feeling you describe.
So I’m glad you bring up how one book can change everything. You’ve reminded me how The Lord of the Rings changed so much for me (besides inspiring my writing journey). And putting it in context, I read Tolkien during some pretty turbulent times. I read him against a backdrop of asking neighbors about their older sons who were in Vietnam, with the drip-drip of Watergate revelations in the daily paper. I remember a day not too long before reading LoTR, just after Bobby Kennedy was killed, when I asked my dad if the world was coming to an end (a Sunday school teacher had put the idea in my head). My stoical father, a WW2 vet, said something along the lines of, “It can feel that way sometimes.”
In looking back on it, whether or not Dick Nixon’s scheming and betrayal could compare with Saruman, or Vietnam could compare with Gondor’s constant battle with Mordor, the books were both an escape and a reminder. They reminded me of the value of friendship and of the lofty ideals of honor and loyalty. And of the value of “home” as a viable concept in a chaotic world. Even if those things are easily scoffed, or even rendered quaint by the cynicism of our times. I wonder if the books would’ve had the same impact on me at any other point in my life or in history. Seems unlikely.
So even if the farce that unfolds in the daily news puts my stories to shame on the fantastical scale, I’ve got to believe in them. As you say, I’m confident they’re saving at least one person. Me.
I feel that every book has the potential to save somebody. If it finds you on the day when you most needed to hear what it has to offer, then it’s doing what all our storytelling is meant to do–help us understand and deal with the world.
Somber parallels, Vaughn, but I can see how you came to make them. That third paragraph is so moving, I felt right there with you, wide-eyed, asking questions, afraid of the answers. Thank you. I do feel as though reality is outdoing sci-fi and fantasy these days, even up here in cozy and quiet Quebec. The politics are disgusting right now, to quote Leonard Cohen, “the poor stay poor and the rich get rich, that’s how it goes, and everybody knows” but no one’s taking a stand against it. We all feel too small, too overwhelmed struggling to get by, to tackle the dragon.
Bryn, all the quotes you included in your post really resonated with me. Reading (and writing) have been an escape, a window of possibility and a lifeline for me. Thanks for reminding me to be mindful of these inspiring motivations when I sit down to write and to shut out the noise of negativity.
Thanks for letting me know, Veronic. Here’s to supporting each other in the struggle, and to perhaps inspiring others to join in tackling the dragon. Onward!
It was the book Sati by Christopher Pike for me. I was 13 or 14 and it made me pay attention to who came in and out of my life and ponder the reasons why they were there and then gone. I began to see that I had people, though they were in and out of my life, who loved me as best they could. And I was struggling with depression and abandonment issues. If not for this book, I may not have seen the good in my life and the people around me. Books contain lives and dreams and brokenness and new beginnings.
You captured the reason why we must keep writing, thank you!
I think there are even parallels between our relationships with books and people. Not every book is for everybody, and not every person will be the person you need, or will be able to give you all of themselves. People (and books) come in and out so we can find the right ones. (And this is why I finally gave up my habit of finishing every book I started and keeping every friendship.)
So many books save me at different times in my life! When I need comfort I go back to my favorite books that remind me of happier times, many from my youth like the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder or my first Dean Koontz books I stayed up all night to read (Lightning, Watchers). For newer books, I look to inspirational memoirs like Home by Julie Andrews, Dispatches from the Edge by Anderson Cooper, Stories I Only Tell My Friends by Rob Lowe, and When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi. They help me see how others are struggling in the world and I feel so not alone in my own struggles.
Those familiar comfort books are so nice! I love the way a book you’ve read a dozen times can transport you back to a specific time and feeling, but can also keep introducing new ideas.
Thank you, Bryn, your post was timely. I guess we all go through those times of doubt when we come to believe our writing doesn’t matter. Your reminder that it does matter sank in on a bleak day. Tomorrow the sun will shine, in my imagination, at least.
As a child living on an abandoned army camp, reading was my escape into alternate worlds. So I can claim that all authors saved me, even those I wasn’t supposed to read. During one of the few classes I attended when in grade school, the English teacher asked us to write a list of the books we had read recently. Mine was long and eclectic. She wrote a warning note to my mother that my reading material would be a bad influence on me. Unrepentant, I still read across all genres. Writing, reading, are both lifelines.
LOL! Ah, the well-meaning attempts of people to limits what we read as children. One of my fondest memories of my childhood was my very cranky grandfather stomping into the county library and informing the librarian that at 8 years old, I was allowed to check out anything I wanted.
In tough times (and they are all tough) I now need ALL THE BOOKS. That includes the literary books I cut my teeth on, but also fantasy, middle grade, young adult, historical, romance, mystery… genre doesn’t matter.
I’m feeling a little dragon-y these days, because I keep piling more and more books up around me like a nest. So I agree with ALL THE BOOKS.
A huge, shouted-from-the-rooftop YES to all of this. I’ve had stretches in life when the happily ever after in 1,000 romances kept me sane, when good mysteries kept my brain occupied and distracted from All The Terrible Things I didn’t want to think about, and when writing was the only escape I could find from a reality that was crushing me a little more every day.
I think those times when it’s hardest to write are the times when we really need to. Thanks for sharing.
I’m convinced that books are the only reason I lived to adulthood, and even now they keep me tethered to other people.
Hi Bryn, yes I’m the person I am because of reading. It brought me into new worlds and helped me decide what my major in college would be and how I might earn a living–teaching literature to high school students. Now engaging in a book after I have (and this is a necessity) schooled myself in what is going on in our country, I read. I enter other worlds. I escape or I smile, laugh. relax. And today, I will write. To me it’s a seamless enterprise and it’s how I can understand the world–not always, but sometimes. If we all keep reading and writing, my hope is that things will get better. Thanks.
I also like how books help me connect with other people. When I’m reading, I’m always aware that someone out there is reading the same book, and we’re connected.
Lovely thought–books unite us–and I will remember it when I do feel alone in a world where people don’t believe as I do.
When I’m feeling blue, any book by Rosamunde Pilcher makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a cozy blanket by the fireplace, sipping a cup of tea.
When I’m overwhelmed and need to escape the world, the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich gets me laughing. Sure, her books aren’t considered literary masterpieces, but they’re a welcome relief from the daily grind!
My sister has a lot of health issues, and she swears by the Stephanie Plum books for surviving hospital stays.
Hot and cold running books. YES. I love that. And I love this post and all these wonderful comments. Thank you, Bryn!!
Although I don’t use an e-reader, it’s what I think is so amazing about new reading technology. You’ve literally got a bookstore/library in a small electronic device you can take everywhere. Hot and cold running books!
My book-saved experience was something like Kell Andrews’. Many books instead of one. After my grandmother died when I was only 7, my home life became increasingly chaotic, and my sense of safety grew more and more precarious. I didn’t understand at the time that my mother was mentally ill, and nobody in the family was about to admit it. What I did know, from fairly early on, was that at my house we were out of control. I desperately needed a place and time I could depend on for some grounding. My nighttime reading supplied those crucial elements for me. Under the blankets with a flashlight, I transported myself into the world of stories, especially adventurous stories about girls and mysteries and horses and cliffhanger situations. Those hours of secret reading saved me. They couldn’t change the circumstances of my daily life, but they could help me cope and give me a dream life too, something to hope and pray for. Maybe I could lift myself out of chaos and into a better place. Eventually, thanks in part to those saving stories, I did exactly that.
I’m so glad you had that window into a better place. It makes such a huge difference for kids who are living in chaos. (And it’s why I’m obsessed with encouraging schools to keep librarians–to help kids find those outlets.)
Amen, Bryn.
When I was new to submitting, I found “the” publisher and sent them “the” story. Unfortunately, they sent me “the” rejection letter. My husband found me in tears, my dream tore to pieces. He’s a man of few words. He just held me while I cried. Then he gave me Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss. The message was loud and clear–my husband believed in me; I needed to believe in myself.
Yes, Dr. Seuss saved me–and my dream.
Yay! for Dr. Seuss. And yes, that’s what makes writing so hard. It’s deeply personal, but it comes with a lot of rejection that we can’t help but take personally.
Great post and comments. When I was asked to write a short autobiography for my writing class, it ended up being an ode to very specific books and authors at various times in my life — Enid Blyton, Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, AJ Cronin, Lloyd C. Douglas, Ayn Rand, Katherine Paterson, Karen Cushman, Rosemary Wells, and even the Bible. Books have shaped me. Writing helps me understand what I struggle with. It saves me first.
This is what I love about journaling, though I’m not terribly reliable about it–writing about problems helps me to figure them out.
Reading books saved my life, one and then another and another. My fourth-grade teacher made me write a book review every week and it changed my life. Literally. My family didn’t have books in the house (imagine!!) but I had the school library until I reached junior high and then there was Danielle Steele. I admit there were no classics on my nightstand. I learned a lot from Danielle, but mostly I learned that reading was the open door. There were no YA or trilogy or series book back then. And there were no movies about those books either. It’s the connection to another person, to their thoughts, to their innermost dialogue. And now I write because I was given a voice, one book at a time.
What a great post at exactly the right time, Bryn. Thank you.
The library was my spiritual home, when I was kid, because that’s where all our books came from. I kind of miss library books having a checkout log pasted in the back. I always loved that as a kid, thinking about all the other people who’d read the book before me.
I’ve thought the same “what does it matter” thing recently when I decided my first draft of my first novel needed major revisions. But I keep thinking about how when I was having dark times — being able to open a good book in the middle of the night — was a great escape. When I couldn’t sleep for worries, it was life-saving to read a story that transported me away from my almost panic. And I recently reread from the Mixed Up Files with my son. Just looking at the drawings again made me happy.
I love that book. It seemed both exotic (because NYC, when I live out in the country), and incredibly pragmatic (they do their laundry while they’ve run away!)
Janet Lee Carey and I had a great online conversation about Art and Activism. We discuss how best to spend your time in the Resistance, using your special Author Superpowers.
http://janetleecarey.com/dream-walks/art-and-activism/
In the movie Sullivan’s Travels, Sullivan was a movie maker who specialized in comedy and fluff in the 1930s, and was constantly pushing to be allowed to make a serious film. In the course of the movie he spends time with many down-and-out people during the Depression, and he comes to realize how much value his pictures had to them, bits of light in a dark life. Now is the time we need the happy stories.
I found a lot of value in The Outsiders, can’t say it saved me from anything but a lot of people can, I believe. My own writing saves me, helps me ‘make’ me.
We definitely need the light and the funny stories in dark times. I never believed that when I was younger, but I sure do now.
Thanks, I needed that. I go to Romance or John Sanford or Connie Willis when I want to shut out the world. It keeps me stable. The Human Comedy by Saroyan is a beautiful thing and always gives me faith that we humans are mostly okay.
Mostly okay. Yes, if we can maintain that, I think we’ll survive.
What a wonderful post. I could honestly say that books saved me, many times. Not so much a particular book but access to them. Especially when in middle and high school. I think a lot of nerdy types found freedom and sanctuary in books. And you’re right, books do save lives every day.
I know that some people are saved by other things (like sports!) I’m glad it’s my nerdy lot in life to be saved by books. :)
Hi Bryn
I am sorry to read this essay so late. When I am busy writing, I save WU for a weekend when I am away, like Thanksgiving. But I loved this essay, and the words resonated with me – I often say to myself, “If I can help one person, then I did a good day’s work” My novel, The Sleeping Serpent is about a manipulative yoga teacher who ensnares his female students in his web. Relationship abuse can happen to anyone in a vulnerable position. We’ve been reading a lot about this lately, so I hope my novel is one that other women will find informative, and find comfort #metoo