Fiction about a real-world tragedy risks sensationalizing the events that remain painful for a lot of people. But they also provide the opportunity to explore human behaviour, to directly address the impacts of violence and trauma.
You’d think it would be easy to at least see your destination on a mountain: your aim is to get to the top. But a lot of mountains have false peaks. Quite often, people will hike for hours to something they think is the top, only to discover that the true peak is higher.
Sadly, I feel that my writer colleagues who possess race privilege often engage in character origami: folding paper to and fro so it appears three dimensional when, in fact, it’s something that’s just plain flat.
“Wow! I just LOVE writing! I’m not crying at all!” I say, writing glorious draft after glorious draft. Or at least, this is how I feel my life should be, while in reality I’m crying in the bath at 6 p.m. on a Tuesday.