No, I didn't place Lin-Manuel Miranda on this entry's header just because he has successively sweetened what has been one of the most bitter years in recent memory (or because Hamilton has proven to be a distressingly prophetic musical). Miranda is here to remind us that creation is still possible. That the transformation of something negative and tense (the election of 1800, Hamilton's tumultuous ascent to glory) into something beautiful and uniting (Hamilton) is feasible. That through dedication and collaboration and determination, we can make something and make something amazing. Lin-Manuel Miranda has shown us that art exists everywhere. When he told us that "love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love/cannot be killed or swept aside", he was instilling into us the promise of immortality. The hatred and poison and destruction that has defined this year will ultimately be lost; the love and joy and beauty is what will survive, what will be remembered.
Miranda is also an informal muse for this entry. I've waxed poetic about his work ethic and unfathomable creativity before on this blog, so I'll keep the adulation succinct. What I really want to talk about is how we can use this year as motivation for the next, how we can weave something positive out of the ceaseless negativity of 2016. Through writing, we will preserve the love from this year and harness the hatred for next year as the world continues to change around us.
The toxic bedrock of this year was, of course, the contentious election. As the full gauntlet of white supremacists and Nazis (oh, sorry, let me be politically correct--"alt-right members") crawled out of the woodwork to support a fascist game show host, the spite harbored by so many disillusioned and ignorant Americans rose to the nation's surface. Once that spite was harnessed by the aforementioned fascist and his Russian puppet masters, it "won" the nation a "president" whose hobbies include harassing women, being ignorant, and treating nuclear weapons like toys. Since the government clearly has no interest in addressing the fact that the election was influenced by Russian hackers, we are most likely going to have to inaugurate the fascist. But that doesn't mean we have to respect or even deal with him.
It is easy to feel powerless knowing how much mindless support the fascist has and how worrisomely ill-equipped and uncaring his cabinet is, especially as a writer. After watching "Saturday Night Live" give the fascist a platform and an opportunity to be "funny" and "relatable", then hurl jokes at him as if they have the moral high ground in this situation, a writer can feel very discouraged. Most of the criticism of this incoming regime feels highly superficial, which is where you come in. If you are angry, make your voice heard. Do not censor yourself anymore. The fascist hates safe spaces (he's made that abundantly clear), so don't coddle him or his evil, deeply corrupt cabinet. Tell him what you really think. By writing honestly and critically, you may inspire others to be more incisive in their writing. Now is not the time to be reserved or moderate. This is not the time to say "don't fight hate with hate". When one side of the argument is content with electrocuting LGBT adolescents and disenfranchising black voters and robbing millions of health care, your anger and hatred is justified. This is not a playground brawl; there is no teacher claiming they don't care who hit first. When the people who want certain groups dead are in power, there is no more gray morality. You must not be afraid to write and write strongly. This is your time to prove that you will not be bullied into silence, that you will keep writing and keep writing radically until you no longer have anything to write about.
Another particularly painful aspect of this year was its hefty number of celebrity deaths. While every year robs us of a group of talented, wonderful people, 2016 was merciless. Having recently lost Carrie Fisher and George Michael--two gifted artists who were also activists and icons--the sting of celebrity death is stronger than ever before. "Why do we mourn these people?" is a question often asked as we grieve the celebrities we lost. The point is not that they were famous or particularly good-looking or even because they were extraordinary in their respective fields--the point is that they touched us. How many directors have been influenced by the Star Wars franchise, how many little girls emboldened by Carrie Fisher's performance and her real-life activism? These people are remembered and cherished because they changed our lives, whether they know it or not, and because they showed certain groups that there is something better for them. Carrie Fisher was a proud feminist and had bipolar disorder, which she discussed freely. To have a widely beloved actress boldly share her struggles with mental illness is incredible and helps to remove some of the toxic stigma from illnesses like bipolar disorder. George Michael had to stay closeted for years and when his sexuality was coerced out of him by invasive press, he refused to be silenced. He was an icon for gay youth in addition to being a talented performer. And I'm sure we were all touched by the actors and singers who passed on this year (Gene Wilder, Alan Thickman, David Bowie, Prince) in one way or another.
It's difficult to revisit these deaths, but as I said before, the fact that they were able to touch you is incredible. Even though they are no longer able to create themselves, they can continue to influence you and your writing. I was devastated when David Bowie died because his 1969 song, "Space Oddity", was the inspiration for the first truly decent short story that I ever wrote and shared with others. But I refused to let his voice die and ended up revisiting the story to edit it into something more coherent and effectively composed in his honor. Just because your icon is dead doesn't mean that their influence has to die. Be inspired by their unapologetic voices. Let their words into your heart and writing: there is no better way to honor someone than to continue their legacy.
While this year has been unrepentant in its awfulness in some regards, there were some great moments (yes, Hamilton being one of them). Don't forget to remember the good, whether on a global or private scale, in addition to the bad. A new year means a new opportunity to prolong that good, to improve the world and lay a foundation of love on which the year can be built. It also means a new opportunity to write. If you've been discouraged recently, now is the time to open your notebook or Word processor and start writing. Write hopefully, write honestly, and, most important, write out of love. It's what Lin-Manuel would want you to do.
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