For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell, it’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness.
James Baldwin, “Sonny’s Blues.”
I’ll start with an admission: I sometimes wish I could write happy, feel-good stories. But that’s not my temperament, and the world seems to have taken from me whatever small gift I had for such tales. So instead I write about how bad things can be, and about how we can press on anyway.
Things are bleak, and almost certain to get much worse. But nihilism and despair serve the interests of the worst people, so in my writing I try to be face the truth without being consumed by it.
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All of which is to say, my newest story isn’t as grim as its title might suggest. “This Shattered Vessel, Which Holds Only Grief” is a deeply personal story for me, with origins in my obsessions with memory, community, and anarchism and anti-authoritarianism. It’s also shaped by my attempts to deal with the trauma of the Trump administration, the capture of democratic institutions by fascists, and the pandemic.
It also owes a massive debt to Andrea Martinez Corbin, whose gorgeous story “Raise the Dead Cobbler” is a direct influence on “Shattered Vessel.” Seriously, you should read it. It’s great. Andrea was kind enough to let me borrow her “Witch of _____” framework, and after several years, I finally found a story where my own witches were needed.
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I hope you like my story. But more than that, I hope it marks a small contribution to an essential conversation.
We can’t avoid suffering. But may survive. We may triumph. And whatever comes, we’ll need each other.