Writing as Control

Last night, a massive hurricane plowed into Florida. Two weeks ago, a separate hurricane devastated southern Appalachia, an area thought "safe" from climate disasters. People have died. Homes have been destroyed, and the full extent of the damage remains to be seen. Climate change isn't some nebulous warning from the sidelines. It's here, and it's frightening.

Meanwhile, the Middle East reels from escalating violence, a war continues in Ukraine. An election in the USA approaches between two sides with such divergent views that reconciliation seems impossible. Meanwhile, many chief policy experts warn that the specter of World War Three, or all out nuclear devastation, is far closer than people realize.

Fun, right?

Closer to home, my son's school has determined that lockdown drills aren't enough. As gun violence in America continues to spiral unchecked, and school shootings are both a daily fear and an unfortunate truth, his school has decided to move to the ALICE method, which is the type of drill where kids are trained to fight back, encouraged to throw books at armed assailants. These drills include acting out shootings, often with air rifles, actual police, and role players being shot and/or shooting. My son suffers from anxiety and was telling me how unsafe he feels at school. He was "glad" he knew to threw books at a gunman. Yet, my heart broke as he described the situation. I am raising children in a country that I don't honestly believe will ever curb gun violence, and actively trains children to "defend themselves" in such a way. This is pretty dystopian, when you think about it. 

From politics to weather, apocalypse to guns, the world is out of control. I can't control any of it. I can barely tread water, just managing to keep my head aloft.

So, I write.

Thirteen years ago this week my writing career began. Thirteen years ago, I climbed onto a cliff in the dark and watched the sunrise over Tintagel. Since that dawn, I've written 10 picture books and 10 novels and one nonfiction book. I've had good moments and bad in my publishing journey, and I honestly don't feel like I've broken in yet. Publishing-wise, I've barely started. Yet, I have no control over publishing. It's yet another storm of chaos and confusion. 

So, I write.

Unlike publishing, writing is a form of control. I can't control what readers or agents or editors think. I can't control what my son's school teaches him, or what's happening in the Middle East, or who will win the election (though I definitely vote). In the broadest sense of the words, I can't control much.

So, I write.

As I was reading the news about Hurricane Milton, I realized that writing has always been a form of control for me. I'm not sure I ever fully realized it before. I am a "plotter". When I have a book idea, I spend time thinking about what will happen. I outline each chapter, each character arc, each element of worldbuilding. I control everything. In the worlds I create, I am God. 

I recently presented a TEDx talk about the Anchor technique, an important emotional recall skill that's a key component in the Making it Up Method. Yet, I hadn't thought about how writing is an Anchor in itself. A form of control. A form of calm in the chaos. 

I know what my characters will do. They don't always listen in those pesky drafts, and choices definitely alter along the way, but they still follow my will in the end. I control their speech, their movements, their internal dreams, and their very world. I control every word upon the page. I control the narrative. 

I control EVERYTHING.

The world is chaotic.
So, I write.

And now I realize, I shall always write. 
Because the chaos remains.
So, I write.   

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash