Writing in Turbulent Times
By Juliet Marillier | August 19, 2024 |
When I sat down to write thie post, I started by checking my definitions. The first definition the search engine brought up for turbulent was this: ‘characterized by conflict, disorder, or confusion; not stable or calm.’ Apt for the world of today? Most certainly. The second definition related specifically to air or water: ‘moving unsteadily or violently’. That is appropriate right now in my part of the world, where a storm is blowing in from the ocean, with wild winds and heavy rain making their presence known outside my study window, not to mention the booming thunderclaps that make my little dog tremble with fear, while her stone-deaf brother sleeps through it all. Storm sounds do make a change from the buzz and screech of power tools outside that same window, where my neighbour and his friends are working almost daily on the gradual restoration of a neglected old house. A house where a man died a lonely death. I’m surrounded by stories here.
As the rain pelts down outside, I’ve been writing a scene in which a character risks his life to rescue crew members from a sinking boat, with the assistance of porpoises. There is indeed turbulence, both in the water and in the mind and body of the rescuer, not to speak of those whose lives are in jeopardy. In a different scene, a character uses a forest pool for scrying (seeking wisdom in visions) and sees snatches of the boat rescue on the water’s surface. She knows the rescuer, who is far away. Finding the deeper meaning in such visions requires calmness of mind. That calm may be hard to find if you’ve just seen someone you care about on the verge of drowning. So there’s inner turbulence for this character also.
In many earth-based faiths the elements of earth, air, fire and water play a part in ritual practice, and are significant in the way we view the world and our fellow creatures. Water, for instance, can both life-giving and, in times of storm or flood, destructive, as shown in traditional stories from many parts of the world. Perhaps, in our writing, we draw on both the peaceful and the turbulent. We may find that dichotomy in the world beyond the window and also in ourselves.
Are my choices as a writer influenced by the world outside my window? Of course they are, even though I’m writing a fantasy novel set in a far-off place, in an earlier time, combining real world elements with pure invention. Everything in our lives is fuel for storytelling. The world outside our window, and the wider world beyond, is almost certain to play some part in what we write and how we do it. Even if your characters are not human, it’s your observation of human (or animal) behaviour that helps you shape them into something real and compelling on the page. A writer may choose to set aside the big issues confronting the world right now, and write a story intended solely to spread good cheer, to divert and entertain the reader, to provide rest for the stressed-out brain or solace for the wounded spirit. In my own dark times I read stories like that and I find them as comforting as, say, a warm bath on a chilly winter day. Or the writer may dive straight into the turbulent water and grapple with the monsters. What might it mean, I wonder, to write like water? You might capture the stillness of that forest pond in the eyes of a character who listens more than they speak; someone with inner depths. You might show the tempestuous waves and capricious tides through the daily life of a community under stress, or in the unpredicable moods of an orator whose words seem to mesmerise an audience. You might show the steady flow of a river in the lives of folk whose role is to serve, to be there for others.
Here in Western Australia, the late winter rain is a blessing. Long may it last, to give our surviving trees some hope of living through another of those extended, baking summers that will almost certainly become the new norm. Meanwhile the world is indeed turbulent around us. No need for me to list here the crises old and new, or the continuing struggle of well-meaning people to find sollutions. Here and there, we see a ray of hope for the future. Cherish those, people. Notice and value the small good things. Put some of them in your writing. They are precious signs of hope in a world whose stark realities can at times seem overwhelming, like the great wave that towers over the lone swimmer. As writers, as storytellers, we have the power of our words. We have a golden opportunity to spread that hope. Not in contrived happy endings; not in implausibly positive stories. We’d soon be bored by those. As a reader, I am happy if the story ends on a note of hope, however slight; or if the protagonists learn something of value to take forward with them. We see the characters sail (or swim) out of the turbulence into calmer waters, aware they may need to brave the storm again. Perhaps what they have learned is resilience.
How is your writing influenced by the world outside your window? Do external events, the good, the bad, and the downright terrifying, inspire you? How does your inner turbulence affect your writing? Any reading recommendations for works of fiction that weave the natural world effectively into the characters’ journeys?
Image credit: ID 325547431 © Ylivdesign | Dreamstime.com
Juliet Marillier has written twenty-four novels for adults and young adults and two collections of short fiction. Her works of historical fantasy have been published around the world and have won numerous awards. Juliet’s most recent series was Warrior Bards, of which the third and final book, A Song of Flight, was published in 2021. Her collection of reimagined fairy tales, Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness, had its trade release in 2022. Mother Thorn is illustrated by Kathleen Jennings and published by Serenity Press.
Juliet is currently working on a two-book fantasy series. The first book in this duology, The Amber Owl, will be published by New Dawn in February 2025.
When not writing, Juliet looks after a small crew of rescue dogs.
Juliet…poetic, beautiful post. And because you asked…outside my writing window is my garden. And true to nature and to the human mind, it provides change. Sometimes there are overwhelming beautiful blooms, and sometimes there are sticks of dead plants, piles of snow. The work of the artist, the writer is to take whatever lies outside his or her window and reagardless, CREATE. Writers often see what they need to see as words come onto the page. That is part of the excitement of what we do. And sometimes what is within our true vision applies…other times we make up the world as our fingers strike the keys. Wising you well, Beth
Thank you for this perceptive comment, Beth. Wishing you well in return.
I’m happy for you about the rain, Juliet. It’s humid and still here today, but we’ve had our share of hurricane-corridor turbulence. It scares me but also stirs something essential in me. All that power. In my current Ms., the main character is surrounded by outer danger and rocked by inner turbulence. I noticed in this last revision that it was the inner turbulence that rocked her the most. Her own dragons rather than the one stalking her out in the world. I always fall back on the beautiful message (for me, at least) from The Lord of the Rings, that the world will change, that there is shadow and danger, but as long as someone can dig deep enough to find her courage, there is hope.
Hi Susan, good to hear from you! Oh yes, the inner dragons … the same with my character. She has what might be called a mantra, passed down by her grandmother, to summon her own calm and courage in difficult situations. Tolkien’s message might be thought of as similar. We all need such reassurance these days.
Beautiful article! For me, Stephen Crane’s short story ‘The Open Boat’ is a magnificent depiction of how man reacts to a turbulent setting. He clings to hope, and he supports his fellow man. Based on Crane’s own experience, the story captures man’s fortitude, even when engulfed in fear. I read it every few years—it grows in depth as I age.
Thank you, Brenda. I didn’t know of Stephen Crane’s story. I’ve now tracked down a copy and read it, and I absolutely agree. Wonderful writing.
Thank you for this, Juliet. Western Australia — I imagine at times it feels like the edge of the world, as Ireland seemed not so many centuries ago.
I find the problem with a turbulent world is how readily it pulls you out of the deeper state to which one must descend for truly creative work. The sound of the power tools next door is an apt metaphor. So easy for it to snap the thread of concentration–like the thread Ariadne gave Theseus. It’s wickedly seductive in its capacity to lift you out of the creative state and feed you the false nourishment of excitement, anxiety, clamor.
And yet I’ve developed a certain misgiving about hope, ever since reading Pema Chödrön’s “When Things Fall Aprt.” I’m paraphrasing, but she said something akin to, “To conquer fear, we must also surrender hope.” Her point being both hope and fear project us into an imagined future where things either go terribly wrong or resolve comfortably. They require imagined states to command our attention, whereas the only true reality is the one right here, right now, whatever its condition.
I also think that it is precisely our attention to the work before us–the words upon the page, one after the next–that provides its own reward. By delving deep into our own solitude, which is where the imagination flourishes, we ironically find the well from which all humanity drinks.
David, your last paragraph has made me think hard. Despite my efforts to be wise, I am often at the mercy of a tendency to anticipate the worst rather than the best, or to imagine all sorts of ways things could go wrong. That frequently gets in the way of my writing as well as various other elements of my life. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of surrendering hope, because hope seems to me an essential part of living, but I’ll take some time to ponder that quote from ‘When Things Fall Apart.’
Fascinating points from you and David. Myself, I find hope to be anchored in the present. It is an attitude. ‘One must imagine Sisyphus happy,’ as Camus pointed out.
Another great work by Crane on a similar theme is ‘A Mystery of Heroism.’ (So glad you enjoyed Open Boat! Crane was an amazing writer.)
And a non-fiction work I recently read is Jane Goodall’s ‘The Book of Hope.’ She is an inspiration.
Hope reigns eternal, doesn’t it, Juliet? A friend and I were just commenting after Mass how much we love the peace and order that the Mass provides in world that’s chaotic. Our church was spared from a recent tropical storm and I spent the bulk of it on my back porch, listening, watching, writing, grateful. Thank you for a lovely essay.
Hi Vijaya. I do believe that, hard though it may sometimes be to find hope. When writing, I did think of the hope provided by being part of a community, and through faith, which comes in many forms!
Juliet, thanks for this essay. While I’ve had a lull in my writing, I think I understand turbulence better than ever due to real-world events. It’s turbulence that shakes things up and provides an opportunity for people to grow. The same applies to characters. Stories need turbulence because it’s what pushes people out of their comfort zones and drives meaningful transformation. So despite the stress of this era, I’ve come to appreciate some of the effects of this mighty force–one of my most effective teachers–and I hope my stories are more powerfully told because of that.
“It’s turbulence that shakes things up and provides an opportunity for people to grow.” Therese, that is so wise and helpful in relation to both writing and one’s own state of mind. Let the storm rage! I will remind myself of this more often, and thank you.
The journey of this essential lesson started for me at the UnConference in 2016, with something our friend Grace Wynter said. She was the wise tree that seeded a hundred sanity saving musings.
I am always saved by your writing Juliet! I highly recommend my latest reading obsession that came as a recommendation by my medicare insurance agent no less! we both found we have a particular disposition toward Dragons! and one never knows who or what will inspire you to make it through one more day! The series is Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros. Only two books so far, but wow! the third Onyx Storm will come out in late January 2025. I have every one of your books available to come by and I expect I will do the same for Yarros. Unforgettable! and most telling line, “I am the Storm”…thank you as always and much love
Hi Jenny and thanks for the comment (and for your lovely poem further down.)
That Rebecca Yarros series is massively popular, with many readers waiting impatiently for the third book. She was on tour in Australia and New Zealand recently and at the one event I also attended she had massive queues of people waiting to get books signed. One of my fellow New Dawn authors, Madeline Te Whiu, interviewed her at that event but I didn’t see that as I was otherwise occupied (signing copies of Mother Thorn.)
How It will Go
If I have to have a voice
and I think you should know
I hope it will become
a Dragon or a Crow
no harshness or hissing
just deep throat glow
an echo in every intonation
not a word said for show
this is how it will go
from now until the end
like a Dragon or a Crow
Beautiful.
I love this!
Thank you both! Juliet and Therese you are both so very kind
You Juliet are like Andara the feathertail golden dragon in Fourth Wing and Iron Flame! I expect Andara will become even more amazing in Onyx Storm. So cool you were at the same event! I will always queue in line for you!! much love!
sorry it is Andarna! too early in the morning…
Beautiful and resonant images, Juliet (and what a fan I am of your glorious novels!). I write into some very dark themes, e.g. grief, child loss, addiction, environmental degradation—some of which are pulled from personal turbulence, some in response to the external world. I have a short story coming out in November that was inspired by an event in my Salish Sea backyard of an orca mother who carried her dead calf balanced on her nose in a poignant display of mourning. I carried this image with me for a few years until it poured out in a story of pregnancy, domestic partner violence, grief… So much of my fiction is me working out my feelings about the world. It’s also often deeply romantic- not romance genre, but atmospheric, emotional, richly landscaped. That’s also me, reflecting my joy in worldbuilding, storytelling, and characters with rich inner lives. This is the “why” of fiction for me: I can linger safely in the turbulence (my characters? not so much!), look deep into the abyss, and work out how to fill it with meaning.
Julie, thank you for this wonderful and profound comment. I look forward to reading your short story when it comes out – if you’re prepared to share publication details here, please do!
Oh I’d be honored! Yes! It will be in Gold Man Review https://goldmanpublishing.com/ Their annual anthology, which is set to be published in November. The story’s title is “Pour Out Like Water” :-)
Thank you, I will look out for it!