Every morning when my husband & I awake, after praying together before rising, the first thing we do is turn on the local news station. I’ve developed a growing fear of the news lately. With an increase in overnight violence, turning on the news can induce a panic attack in people. We live in a Chicago suburb, and as everyone probably knows, there’s much violence in the inner city, and like a fire, is spreading out further.
I am for ‘every life matters’, not just black, or white, or Hispanic, but all life. I don’t know what it feels like to be a different race, since I’m white, and maybe be racially profiled. I desire for all to get the respect they deserve. I mourn with those who mourn, especially around the nation currently. I want truth to be revealed and everyone not to jump to conclusions. Everyone needs to be able to tell their side of the story.
But I go back to the start of my piece and add, that as a writer, I have much to pick and choose from lately. Life is happening out there. People are living, dying, struggling, loving, and trying to survive in this world. I tend to clip articles from the daily newspaper to hold onto for future reference in case I need it for a piece of fiction. They provide me with ideas; reminders of what life in America is like. From weather disasters to social issues, from politics to injustice; it’s all there in front of my eyes.
I can’t even begin to wonder how parents explain these horrible events to their young children. Yes, life is scary, and I think this world is becoming more and more frightening as the years go by. But as a writer, one needs to keep an open mind, not to judge too quickly. I love being able to look at everyone’s point of view, to try and understand how others see the world, where they’re coming from; what their mindset is. I don’t want to be anyone’s judge and jury. I want to learn about things; how they work, how they sound, how they feel. That’s the writer in me.
Yet the fear is growing to the point that I don’t want to look at the news, or read a newspaper anymore. It sickens and saddens me what others have the ability to do to other human being; the pain that can be inflicted. My heart breaks with those who have lost loved ones to violence. I weep with those who have lost children, spouses, siblings, parents…but when does it end?
As writers, we need to have topics to write about, to be able to view life through other people’s eyes. We need to grow in our knowledge, and embrace all that life has to offer, whether good or bad. That’s the sad part, I think, that as a writer, I need to have things to write about. But I wish, and pray, that there wouldn’t be this horror, and pain, running rampant in society. I don’t want to see a child wailing the loss of a parent, or a spouse breaking down in tears.
So I hope that the days ahead are brighter for all, not that I’ll be holding my breath. Writers can be cynics as well, but I can only dream of peace and unity. What about you?