An author’s style, or identity, is determined by numerous factors, but what outweighs them all is the impact the author desires to have on readers. In grade school, students are taught the various purposes a writer may have: to entertain, persuade, or inform. The intent of a good writer is to touch on all three.
How do we create literary masterpieces that teach audiences something about which they weren’t already knowledgeable, keep them on the edge of their seat in dramatic suspense, and inspire a genuine response that causes them to act?
With the exception of my first book, my intent has been to shift the way readers perceive current conditions, overcome life’s challenges, and reach higher levels of consciousness and connectedness. My ability to write was unearthed when I was seven, and by eleven I was fascinated with creating short fiction and poetry. My earlier writings frightened several relatives as I explored the dark side of harnessing secrets of abuse, but even then I intended to give readers hope and comfort to know they were not alone.
Everyone possesses a unique gift that can enhance the lives of others. We build businesses, offer services, contribute art, share knowledge, protect others—the list is endless. And there are those who produce insightful pieces of writing.
There was a song I learned for my 2nd grade assembly that said:
If I were a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning
I’d hammer in the evening, all over this land
I’d hammer out danger, I’d hammer out a warning
I’d hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters all over this land.
If I were a song to sing, I’d sing it in the morning
I’d sing it in the evening, all over this land
I’d sing out danger, I’d sing out a warning
I’d sing out love between my brothers and my sisters all over this land.
I believe every gift was intended to spread love—especially writing. There is a great responsibility to use our talents to uplift, inform, and inspire each other to greater heights. In light of racial tension and consistent episodes of police brutality and killings across the nation, my most recent works shed light on how we can impact youth in our community, love our neighbor, build a strong economy, and unify. It may be offered under the guise of a romantic love story, but the motifs are evident once readers dive in. I say it’s my “style”. It is incredibly fulfilling to bridge the info-tainment gap and produce pieces that leave an audience contemplating what to do next, or measuring our progress.
Writers are not only “literary entertainers”. We are scribes who have documented history and social climates throughout the ages. Pioneers like Zora Neale Hurston, Alice Walker, and Toni Morrison vividly illustrated the lives of black women in American society over the past century. Ralph Ellison, James Baldwin, and Richard Wright illuminated the underside of black life.
Black writers possess the talent to create amazing storylines within various genres, yet with the influx of urban fiction in the late 90s, following the groundbreaking release of Sister Souljah’s The Coldest Winter Ever, black authors consistently pump out stories that depict “street life”, scandal, death and violence at each other’s hands. This is not to say the extremely popular genre isn’t essential to our culture’s artistic identity, but I contemplate how much more diverse the voices of our generation could be. Urban fiction is edge-of-your-seat, fist-clinching, lip-biting entertainment, and offers adventures into the world of imprisonment, gang life, prostitution, or relationships saturated with deception.
What more can the black writer offer to contribute to our current social climate and bring about change? I presume the challenge is to depict the current social climate for blacks in America within our works of fiction—no matter the genre. Expand the world of fictional characters to include the black inequality perspective. Find creative angles that not only entertain, but inform and inspire readers. Allow these works to represent a tumultuous era of inequality and injustice coupled with a desperation to be heard, accepted, and seen as equal.
One argument is that the black community has grown exhausted of depictions of slavery in Hollywood and literature. I must say, non-blacks agree. Years ago, I pitched the story Black Gold to a few executives, and one unapologetically Jewish agent responded by saying, “I’m tired of hearing about how black people lose; I want to hear about how they win.” Of course that would be the mindset of someone who didn’t witness a loved one get shot in the street, suffocated, awakened to spraying bullets—one who doesn’t fear being pulled over by law enforcement, and who trusts that when they call, they will actually be protected and not assaulted, imprisoned, or killed. The argument of exhausting the topic of slavery in Hollywood is more prevalent than those who object to depictions of the Holocaust, yet there are new storylines based on the genocide of Jews that occurred over 70 years ago. I do not discourage the production of these films; I’m a film buff who enjoys the artistic expression of all historical events, but I ask for the same acceptance and equal opportunity to display our history—and our present.
Some of us may be “hammers” and take to the front lines in protest; but if you only have a song, sing it loud—in your fiction, your poetry, your paintings—all over this land.
The WarriHer Writer 