Barbarians At The Gate

I saw a statistic that Google searches for “free speech” are up about 200% over the recent weeks. The reasons for this are obvious enough, and I won’t belabor them here. That’s a fearful hole I’ve fallen into lately in conversation, the only way out of which being a nice, healthy stretch of silence. It’s the same variety of silence I require before I start writing, when I’m still filled up with the noise and nattering of the day. If you give them enough attention, ideas can appear to have the heft and breadth of reality, even though they are still just thoughts strung together in the infinitely malleable ether our mind.

That’s okay. In fact, as a writer, I depend on the fertility of the human imagination to bring my work to life. After all, my stories are nothing but little black shapes on a page. They can’t bite or sting, can’t dance or croon. I require the reader to willingly enter a dream-state wherein the story is told both for them and by them. From a certain perspective, you could say they’ve allowed me to breach the walls of their castle, entering the one place on the all the earth that belongs entirely to them.

This is why I understand censorship, why I’ve had to tell my wife from time to time, “Let’s not talk about him, now. I need my sleep.” Free speech sometimes seems like a good idea for ourselves but maybe not for other people. Everyone is doing they’re level best to believe in something good, something kind and hopeful. They don’t need someone coming along and asking, “What if what you desire and are hoping for is bunk? What if all is lost?”

It's like asking, “What if this story I’m writing that I think is cool and interesting is really just crap?” Now you’re in trouble. The barbarians are through the gate and tearing up the palace. They’re loud and crass and full of argument. You can’t fight them; the battle is already lost. Instead, you must surrender to silence, the one condition in which they have no power. Peace knows itself, you see; knows it’s the true starting place for all creation. It can’t actually be taken from me, no matter what anyone says, because it can’t be given to me. Only I can find it in myself. When I do, I remember it’s all anyone wants, what everyone is bickering about, and singing about, and laughing and crying about, dreaming and dreaming of what we already have.

Check out Fearless Writing with Bill Kenower on YouTube or your favorite podcast app.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com