The World Needs Writers Now More Than Ever
By Rachel Toalson | January 8, 2025 |
“Lock up your libraries, if you like, but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”
—Virginia Woolf
Writers are truth tellers. We always have been. Throughout history, writers have been brave enough to say what needs to be said, through fiction and nonfiction and poetry. George Orwell’s politically charged novels and Maya Angelou’s powerful stories and poems about being a Black woman in America and Ray Bradbury’s truth in science fiction and Ta-Nehisi Coates’s essays on writing and acting and American myth-making—they were and remain important voices that lead their readers toward truth.
Writers forge the way for thought and dialogue and cultural discussion. We are thought leaders. We explore the necessary questions and turn them back on ourselves. Most of us write to discover what we think and believe about the world, and, in the process, we arrive at a certain kind of truth. We share that truth with the world through our words.
It takes a lot of courage to share that truth with the world.
Writers also provide a window into what could be—a vision for the future that includes all people sitting at the proverbial table, belonging in all the necessary places. We infuse our tales of warning and caution and hope with the underlying truth that we all matter, that we all have stories worth listening to, that we are all a necessary part of the human conversation. We see the truth clearly because we write to reflect on the truth, to peel away all the layers of muck covering it. We are philosophers and sages, and sometimes we are even prophets.
Book banning creeps ever closer and expands ever wider, drowning out many of our voices. And so writers—we—are more necessary now than ever.
It’s not easy getting out there and speaking truth to lies. We won’t always feel like writing with our pens as though they can fight like swords, because…well, it can be a very scary thing to do. And who has the energy? And won’t there be consequences? What if they’re…too much?
I’m a member of an organization called Authors Against Book Bans, which works to fight the book bans happening all over our country. We’ve been having regular meetings about the resistance that will potentially come against authors as a new administration takes power in the U.S. We are preparing to stand against that opposition—to use our voices and tell the truth, writing op-eds and essays and stories that protect and preserve our right to write and readers’ right to read.
It reminds me that in 2025 and beyond, the world will need us more than ever to show them what it means to be human, what it means to be ourselves, what it means to live. What it means to honor and accept others and all their beautiful differences. What it means to be a light in the darkness of hate and judgment and misunderstanding.
This will require extraordinary courage and hope and the ability to remain steadfast in the face of opposition—because there will be opposition. There will always be opposition when we are saying something worthwhile. It’s something I often forget. If I am writing about and saying the things that matter, I’m not going to please everybody with my words. Even if I’m writing about things that don’t seem to matter, I’m still not going to please everybody with my words. Pleasing everybody is an impossible task.
Of course, we don’t always have to write about the things that matter, as in really really matter. It can certainly be part of our journey (and a necessary coping mechanism in the face of opposition) to write a novel or a piece just for the fun of it. But I’d argue that those “fun” pieces are also about things that matter, because we—our thoughts, ideas, beliefs—will always be part of what we write, and those things matter. We matter.
Opposition can be loud, and it can seem never-ending. All encompassing. So as we put ourselves out there and guide the way toward truth and give our readers hope and love the world with our words, here’s what I want us to remember:
We have to tell our truth
There’s a lot of philosophical discussion about what the truth actually is. I remember having these discussions back when I was a teenager, being told there was only one truth and it was ABC. But even then I thought, But that’s not the truth, because I also believe D and G and S, and are they saying that’s wrong? That I’m wrong?
I’ve come to understand that there is a difference between truth and fact. Facts are true. Truths are subjective, filtered through the life experience and beliefs of individuals. If my husband and I head out the door and run 10 miles on a Saturday morning and, upon returning home, I say, “That was an easy 10-mile run,” that is the truth. For me. My husband, however, would never say “easy” and “10-mile run” in the same sentence. It would not be the truth for him.
What I mean when I say we have to tell our truth is that we have to tell the truth of our lives and experiences and the people in them and the things we believe to be true—however hidden they are in fiction or poetry or whatever we choose to write. My truths can be found all through my books—“we are all loved,” “we’re all just doing the best we can,” “we all have the capacity for good and bad,” “we all belong,” etc.
Aldous Huxley, the great English writer and philosopher once said, “Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly—they’ll go through anything. You read, and you’re pierced.” Telling our truth leads the way to better and deeper understanding. It’s how we gift ourselves to the world, how we make change and facilitate the cultural conversations necessary to become a more enlightened society.
We will need each other
Writers can be solitary people, and of course the act of writing is a mostly solitary pursuit.
I enjoy solitude. It’s good for us. But we can’t only be solitary people, because when we’re writing and pouring ourselves out we need to be filled again.
Community does that. We find ourselves in each other. We are stronger together. We can face so much more when we have people around us, wading through the choppy waves with us. We have to make sure we have a community around us, to fortify us. A community of writers, a community of loved ones, a community that can lift us up when we’re down. We give each other strength and courage when they run thin. Community empowers us to persist despite the obstacles we may face.
If you haven’t yet joined Authors Against Book Bans, I’d urge you to. We have all kinds of helpful resources that can assist you in fighting against book bans in your community. We meet regularly. Sometimes it’s just nice to be in a place with like-minded people, working for the same goals.
Learn more about the group here: https://www.authorsagainstbookbans.com/
We must care for ourselves
Telling the truth is hard work, and when the voices of opposition come, we need to make sure we’re storing up our reserves. We can burn ourselves out. The world can burn us out.
Do what’s necessary to recharge. Take a break, take a walk, get your not-so-charitable thoughts down in a journal and mark it for destruction (or not), go for a long run imagining that every foot-strike squashes the words lobbed against you.
I’m a sensitive soul; criticism cuts right to my heart. I find I have to return to my friends and return to myself when opposition comes.
Do what you need to get back out there and continue the work, because it will need every one of us.
Setting aside time to reflect is vital
Of course we need to write. But we also need to take a break from the truth telling and engage in some truth seeking so we can then return to the truth telling. How do we seek truth? We spend time reflecting. Reading. Listening.
This is our superpower as writers. We get the idea, research and listen, reflect on it, start writing. It’s important to do that with what’s happening in the world, too.
We need to set aside time to reflect and write about the difficult things happening in our personal lives and in the world. I’m a big proponent of journaling. I journal every day. During trying times I journal multiple times a day. Reflecting is how we digest what’s happening around us, and that’s necessary for our mental and emotional longevity as writers.
We. Are. Enough.
You. Are. Enough.
Period.
Opposition can often make us question who we are. Are we the person we should be? (Absolutely—we are magnificent just the way we are.) Are we doing the right thing? (Yes.) Do we have what it takes? (Yes again.) Does it really matter whether we join the fight or sit this one out? (Every one of us is important to this fight.)
We don’t know what will happen in the future. What we do know is that we are here, we will claim our voices, we will speak, and we will not stop.
We will never stop.
Toni Morrison once said, “A writer’s life and work are not a gift to mankind, they are a necessity.”
Our pen is our sword, and we have trained well.
All we have to do is pick it up and write.
What kind of truth telling will you do as a writer this year? What is one step you can take today toward creating a community of supportive people around you? What kinds of challenges have you considered for 2025, and how will you handle them?
Thank you, Rachel. I see we’re addressing the same issue, but from different directions. This Friday, my post will address what the opposition you mention will possibly look like. And my final question is much like yours: what will we write now? It’s intended as a bracing read. I almost wish you had gone after me, to rekindle the hope and courage we will need to do what we must, but I’m revising the post now to make sure your words are mentioned and taken to heart.
Thanks for the info on AABB. Just signed up.
I look forward to your piece, David, and I appreciate your words. We’re all in this together, but it’s not going to be easy.
One tactic used by those who use power to intimidate their adversaries is to pick a fight selectively with one or more prominent names, hoping that will intimidate others, and force them into silent isolation. Your call to embrace the community is a crucial way to combat that.
Wonderful exhortation, Rachel. Besides book bans, I would add that I’m deeply alarmed by the increasing levels of functional illiteracy in our country (recent studies say a quarter of Americans are functionally illiterate–a number starting to mirror the alarming percentage of Americans who don’t vote). This heavy reliance on video and flashing screens is not just harmful to attention spans, it’s destroying our collective capacity to seek truth. It’s defacto book banning. I believe it’s one of the primary reasons we’ve ended up with this regressive system, driven through demagoguery (those who are not zealots and who don’t have the means or desire to seek their own truth are the most vulnerable to demagoguery). We should also be finding ways to get in the fight for better, broader literacy.
Thanks for the nudge and the reassurance.
Excellent point, Vaughn. As I’m raising my children, I’m trying so hard to keep them in books and keep them seeking information from sources other than video. It’s everywhere. All-encompassing, and sometimes it feels impossible. Above all, I want to raise them as critical thinkers. I’m still trying to figure out how to do that. Because I agree with you–we must be able to seek the truth and sort fact from fiction. I’ve been trying to explore how best to do that with adolescents and teenagers, and maybe I can write a book about it. :)
Rachel, your thoughts are certainly stimulating, especially when we focus on the creative process of writing our stories from the heart vs. the AI-generated text that fails to know anything about truth or facts or artistic pursuits. The book banning is a horror. One thing we can do as readers is to buy banned books or check them out at the library. And, vote in your school board elections against censorship. It appears that we may need a “library of banned books” in our communities. I’m all for that.
Well said, Rachel. Telling the truth takes bravery and effort and you have reminded us that yes, we can do it, even when we feel we’ve been kicked in the teeth. Our pen is our sword and it is also our salvation. Write on.
Yes! It’s also our salvation. I love that.
I’ve abandoned X in favor of Bluesky and am seriously considering quitting Facebook, Instagram, and Meta. Both Musk and Zuckerberg are getting rich in the disinformation business. Both are running toxic catch-alls for creepy politicians and hucksters who lay in wait to take writers and others for a ride.
Zuckerberg was threatened with imprisonment by You Know Who in a book this past year called Save America. With the election results, I think MZ decided to take the path of least resistance. His claim he now wants to embrace “free expression” and that “fact-checking has become too political” underscore that the boy wonder has no clothes.
Ray, I too dumped X and am finding BlueSkyers are far more polite, and respectful, and they take the time and interest to engage with LIKES and comments. Reposting is strong. The literary community there is full of authors, readers, book clubs, book reviewers, publishers, editors, and submission posts than I ever saw on X. I gave up 1700 followers on X (ten years’ worth) but quickly got 700+ followers within weeks on BS. Quitting Facebook, though, that’s a hard one. You’re right, MZ and Musk deserve abandonment.
I’ve abandoned Twitter but have yet to leave FB. Maybe sometime in 2025. :)
Rachel, your voice is a gift, and I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for your post and for its empowering message.
Thank you, Therese. And the same back to you.
Rachel, this was just what I needed to read today. Thank you for your work to support books and authors and for this post.
Hello Rachel. I doubt anyone who frequents the Writer Unboxed site would disagree with your clarion call to writers. Language is the bedrock of civilization, of what it means to be human. The other half of the equation has to do with readers. Without them, writers end up talking to each other.
But you say this: “I’ve come to understand that there is a difference between truth and fact. Facts are true. Truths are subjective, filtered through the life experience and beliefs of individuals.”
You go on to offer an illustration having to do with morning runs you and your husband take. That the run is ten miles long is a fact, but that you see it as easy and your husband sees it as hard are separate versions of truth.
I can’t agree. How you see something is an opinion, not a fact. Truth and fact are one and the same thing, but can mean different things to different people, can be subject to variations in interpretation. To think otherwise is to confer legitimacy on the infamous White House communications director who said she was simply offering “alternative facts” to refute an accepted one.
But it may be this simple “truth” no longer carries much weight. Today’s Wall Street Journal has a story with the following headline: “Meta to drop fact-checking.”
Hi Barry! Thanks so much for your perspective. I know this is the age-old debate, and I get pretty philosophical about it. I understand and acknowledge your stance on truth, but I do respectfully disagree. I think it would take an in-person conversation (friendly debate? :) ) to get into the specific details. I suppose, in a somewhat short and sweet way, I can explain my perspective as this: Opinions are the opposites of facts. Lies are the opposites of truths. One can be factual and truthful, but they are not the same thing. I tell the truth and sometimes that gets me in trouble. No one can argue with facts (though they’ll try), because they’re backed up by evidence. But everyone can argue about what’s true and what’s not.
When considering truth, I think of things like e.e. cummings’s “Love is the whole and more than all” and Maya Angelou’s “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you” and Toni Morrison’s “The function of freedom is to free someone else.” Those aren’t facts, but they certainly feel like truth to me.
I spent a decade as a news journalist before I started publishing, so I know the difference between fact and opinion. But as a former journalist, I would never say that what I published was truth, because for me, truth sits deeper in the belly and chest. It resonates and thrums all the way through me and whispers, “Ah. Yes. That.” It’s an awakening. Facts are just…facts. Sometimes boring, sometimes fascinating. I don’t feel facts. I feel truth. Maybe it’s not about “feeling” truths. I’m not an expert. I just have a viewpoint. And I’m neurodivergent, so that also informs what I see and the way I think.
That was a MUCH longer response than I intended. But perhaps it will give you a bit more information about where I come from and the perspective I carry. Regardless, I’m glad you’re here, and may we all keep going with courage and conviction into whatever comes our way!
Rachel, thanks. I did sign up for AABB. Keep writing, keep resisting. (But get out in the sunshine too, which is advice I give myself, in the midst of all this balderdash.)
Yes! Sunshine and nature helps. And I’m so glad you’ve joined AABB.
Rachel:
Your post is especially timely in light of Ann Telnaes’s resignation from the Washington Post in protest of editorial censorship. We’ve see what happens when the gatekeepers of the so-called free press cozy up to the political powers. Truly frightening.
Rachel, I needed this. THANK YOU SO MUCH. Truth in story, in news, in our reflections on what we read will now be a bigger task than ever before. But it will also sharpen our minds, and make us eager to read carefully, always searching for the truth. Metaphor and beautiful language will not disappear. But it might find a new place in the context of what we write and publish. Thanks for your post.
Thanks for being here, Beth. Your voice is needed out there!