A few months ago, I cried out for help. I was finding it profoundly difficult to be a writer. My inspiration and enthusiasm were buried so far below an onslaught of awful news headlines and downright hate, trauma, and tragedy that I struggled to reach them. What’s a girl to do? In a world so woeful and broken, how might I dig beneath the heartbreak and create? How could I free myself to write during these confusing and troubling times?
In other words, I asked, as Anita Silvey did, “What difference does a children’s book make in the midst of all of this political calamity?” Feeling distraught and discouraged, I went where I so often go for guidance—to my fellow writers. And I received generous, loving, thoughtful, eloquent responses.
Will Alexander recommended music; Ginny Wolff, laughter; Susan Hill Long, imagination; and David LaRochelle, honesty and kindness. Susan Fletcher found “sideways wisdom” through her writing. Margi Preus reminded me just to put one word after another, and Anita Silvey, like the rest of us, does it for kids. Susan Cooper and Gennifer Choldenko wrote about hope and Marion Dane Bauer, wonder. Jen Bryant, Dorothy Love, Avi, Karen Blumenthal, and Nikki Grimes stressed the need for engagement and writing out of our struggles.
I now add them to my company of inspirations, people whose words keep me afloat, like Mary Oliver:
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Like Gwendolyn Brooks, Pulitzer Prize winning poet, in her “Speech to the Young”:
Say to them,
say to the down-keepers
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
“Even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night.”
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.
Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along.
Like Berthold Brecht, poet and playwright whose words found me in this dark time:
In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.
Yes, there will be singing about the dark times. With our voices and our words. In this dark time, whatever we may write will come from that place. And as the 1st/2nd century Mishnah sage, Rabbi Tarfon, whose quote is calligraphed and hanging on my wall, said: You are not required to complete the task. Neither are you free to abstain from it.
You must stay drunk on writing, said Ray Bradbury, who has so often said what I need to hear, so reality cannot destroy you.
The upshot is my despair and anger have not passed. Until we live in a perfect world, I imagine it won’t pass. But thanks to all who offered wisdom, compassion, and inspiration, I can write despite such feelings. Or maybe because of them. And because of you.
Now excuse me, I have a book to finish.
3 thoughts on “On Creativity: Karen Cushman”
Thank you Karen! I have shared feelings of hoplesssnes, but still paint and write. The Arts are the heart of freedom of expression. We must never become silent even if we don’t see the impact of our words and vision. Especially to the young. You have been a voice for young women, but your words also reach many others.
Thanks, Steve. You’re right–we must never become silent but sometimes it feels like so weak a response to the craziness around us.
Thank you for this conversation, Karen. I especially like the quote from Rabbi Tarfon, “You are not required to complete the task. Neither are you free to abstain from it.” It’s both reassuring to be reminded it’s not up to me alone to save the world, and it’s also a good reminder for me to do what I can.
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