There is so much going on, it’s amazing that the world keeps turning. Boris is doing his kamikaze best, I suppose, though I’m not convinced of either his methods or his mandate and he seems in his short time in office to have alienated more people than I’ve had hot dinners. The world needs to take action on climate change, environmental degradation, overfishing, the nuclear debate, the manufacture and supply of weaponry… And throughout a three-year fracas about our membership of the European block, many opportunities for action on our future priorities have passed us by.
Yet it becomes increasingly apparent to me that young adults, school leavers and college students are being looked to, to speak for the imperatives of future generations. Last night on the news, a piece about reconciliation in which young people from across an old, bitter divide were invited to meet. Looking exactly like my daughter having a conversation with one of her school buddies: young, hopeful, accepting. And baffled by the old, insisted-upon enmities maintained by their elders. In the same bulletin, mentions of climate change, marches, and Greta Thunberg are fairly routine.
Are young people increasingly seen as the moral voice of our nations? Of course, they are “the future” but as things stand, they currently have little investment in “the system”. Perhaps that’s the whole point: young people are freer, less hidebound by expectations that the “rest of us” take for granted. And “the system” currently appears to pay their views scant regard. A school teacher, when asked if her YA pupils may join a march for climate change says, “What’s more important? The environment, or your exams?” Greta has been mocked in mainstream media for having the courage of her convictions; 16 and 17 year olds don’t have the vote, nor do they have automatic rights to state support. Young people are often characterised as a nuisance, difficult, unfathomable. But do we listen to them?
I’m honoured that young people are taking action. For the rest of us, it seems to be largely a case of “business as usual”. Exploration for oil and gas – so essential for jobs and industry – continues, as does the sale of weaponry, for much the same reasons. I’ve yet to see a convincing argument that selling weaponry – in other words, facilitating the death of persons unknown – is good for any of us.
If we wish young people to advocate for us, we need to allow them full participation rights in our society. Not demonising their curiosity and energy, but allowing it expression, and learning – for the love of God – to listen. It is because young people have different perspectives that their views are so valuable. They need to be heard, accorded a full place in our democratic processes, and given the financial support to allow them some choices and active participation.
Those youngsters whom we designate our hope for the future are growing louder and more insistent. If the threats of climate change are real – and it seems wiser to assume they are than to pretend it’s all fiction – the momentum for change will continue to grow. While the old guard, so accustomed to rehearsing their entitlements and not listening to other points of view, will find itself increasingly isolated.
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September 20, 2019
In their own words
Fran Macilvey The Rights & Wrongs of Writing, Women's fiction and chic lit 0 Comments
In their own words
Yesterday a funny thing happened. For the first time, as I was writing more of book 3 in my fiction series, I felt as if I was a privileged insider, given unparalleled access to write my characters’ lives in their own words, and, with my trusty pen and paper to hand, allowed to explain their motivations and hopes to readers.
Perhaps that sounds obvious, but in the past, I’ve never felt quite that level of inside awareness, as if I was writing a fly-on-the-wall documentary… and the words kept coming, only to be interrupted by the realisation that it was well after six in the evening and hubby had arrived home from work.
Of course, my characters remind me, I know them as no-one else does, so naturally it is my job to explain, and to highlight and help them resolve their dilemmas. I can show too, how often ordinary people are uplifted by humour and love, even in the midst of heartache.
When I resume writing a piece, I very rarely pick up where I left off. I like to go back a couple of pages, a chapter or two, and begin with a bit of rereading and editing, to check for tone and consistency. While I’m doing that, other ideas crystallise and I can more smoothly move forward. And usually, these days, that process is fairly easy, not least because, on my perambulations through Facebook, I collected a piece of very useful advice – it works for me, at any rate, though it may not work for everyone – to leave writing a story, if you have to leave it, while it is still interesting. To leave when you would rather not, rather than at the end of a good chapter, say.
Yesterday, in my reportage frame of mind, I felt as if I could simply keep writing until the story was finished. I have not far to go, and I did contemplate an all-nighter – briefly, it rarely works – but today, instead, I shall resume and simply hope that my journalistic bent returns. It is lovely being beside my characters, listening and watching as their stories unfold and trying faithfully to record what happens to them, in their own words.
Thanks for listening.
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