Why I Write What I Write

 

Recently I received an interesting review of my Barbary Chronicles, sparking new thoughts into why I write what I write.  It gave me pause.  While  they recommended the book, they included a note advising reader discretion. Because there’s a death and description of wounds, and sensitive readers might object.

I had not received such warnings – from the same organization, no less, albeit a different reviewer -- in my previous middle grade titles. One targeted the deadliest battle of the Civil War, The Girls of Gettysburg (Holiday House, 2014). The other depicted one of the deadliest natural disasters when an earthquake triggered the Mississippi River to turn backward, Big River’s Daughter (Holiday House, 2013). In fact, this new book is quite calm when compared to these previous titles.

Certainly, it is not an invalid concern. Not every book is for every child.

But it is also very true that every book has a child that needs it. This is why librarians are superheroes. Their superpower is knowing which book a child needs at the moment they need to read it.

 Not every book is for every child. But every book has a child that needs it.

I have to wonder about unintended consequences, especially in this age of book bans.  It’s a tenuous balance (another reason why librarians are superheroes): trigger warnings can play an important role, especially when content proves too much for certain readers. But it is also a form of soft censorship.

Organizations like PEN America report that book bans "kill creativity" and sow self-doubt, causing authors to second-guess their instincts mid-writing. This is further reinforced when, according to their report, one considers that:

• Offensive Language: Cited in over 60% of book challenges.
• Age Inappropriateness: Claims that material is unsuited for a specific grade or age group (approx. 49%).
• Marginalized Themes: LGBTQ+ narratives, racial history, and religious or political viewpoints face disproportionate pushback

Just as important, according to the ALA, those high-profile book bans in schools and libraries send a chilling message to creators that specific themes, such as those involving LGBTQ+ content, race, history, or marginalized voices, carry high personal and professional risk. 

It takes great courage to be a writer, to open yourself up and bleed on the page, then share all that vulnerability with audiences. But in the end, if you want to be a writer, you have to be brave. Writers who let their light shine give young readers permission to do the same.

If it’s your calling, it’s your calling.

The audience that I write for knows what it means to be unseen. They know what it means to not have a voice. Not just because they are marginalized by race and gender, but because they are poor.  While poverty is a recurring motif in many historical novels, it is particularly relevant to American history of the late nineteenth century, coinciding with the ever-changing social conditions and urbanization. Economic hardship can be elaborate, multifaceted, and downright convoluted.  Poverty serves as a subtheme that offers a window into what it means to be human. For my characters, their isolated lives are complex and multi-layered because, then as now, young lives are too often impacted by adults who fail to see them as worthy humans.

Not every young life is a fairy tale waiting to happen. Not every young girl is a princess in waiting. Not every young boy is a prince, or a wizard in hiding waiting to be chosen.  All we need to do is watch the news to see this playing out.

And for these young readers impacted by poverty, exploitation,  homelessness, and hopelessness, monsters are real enough in a way that fairy tales – even the most dastardly type – are not.

So my stories reveal the struggles of those young types who fight the real dragons, and how they are not just heroic, but heroes in their own right. How they rise up to create their own destinies. How they learn to choose themselves.

When you’re not the chosen one, you choose yourself.

For myself, I refuse to soften their ordeals, and  minimize their greatness.

  

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” ― Madeleine L'Engle

 

This post dedicated to all the librarian superheroes. Happy Writing and Reading!

-- Bobbi Miller