Is This Who We Want to Be?

By: Ann Frailey

There is nowhere for innocence to hide these days. Childlike purity is hardly allowed to breathe free air in our current culture. As a reader (and television viewer) and a writer, I find myself at a crisis point. Do I disengage, or do I forge ahead, battling the stings of graphic violence and pornographic literature? In a seeming contradiction, I have chosen to do both.

I do value an honest portrayal of “gritty” life. Renowned authors throughout the ages have depicted the ugly side of human experience. That courageous honesty has been a part of their gift to generations—to hold up a mirror to humanity’s face and ask: Is this who we want to be? But I have found, to my disgust, that too much of current literature and televised offerings are not reflections but rather distortions of the human condition disguised as honest reporting.

The difference between books of times past and today is not in the portrayal of sexual impurity, depravity, acts of violence, or other horrific human conditions but rather in the extraordinarily vivid, graphic, in-your-face emphasis on these conditions. The acceptance of what in former eras had been considered sinful behavior is now normalized to the point where a reader—or audience—can hardly justify tossing the book away or turning off the show. The voice-over screams in our heads: “You’ll have to stop watching TV or reading anything current. This is the best there is!”

Besides, we reason within ourselves—art is a reflection of the real world. This is our real world. Can’t escape it. Might as well learn to deal with it. See it. Hear it. Imbibe it. Write it. Produce it. Just try to stop short of actually living it.

And therein lies the great struggle. As an author in today’s world, it is very difficult to catch the interest of a literary agent or a publisher if you do not have a gay, trans, or some other version of an “under-represented” character in your work. Ignoring the fact that your novel may deal with deep matters of the soul, including deceptions, prejudice, and brokenness—if it does not depict an explicit sex scene, acts of horrific violence, or some culture-bending scenario, then it has nothing new to say.

It is true; I have nothing new to say.

Nor does anyone else. There are various ways to show truth and innumerable varieties of deception. A good story shows both but doesn’t try to switch them in a daring attempt to say something new. It isn’t new. It’s just another deception.

Every story has a core value in that it offers a particular slice of life from an intimate personal perspective. Perhaps several slices of life, if the author can craft more than one “main” character. The difference between much of current literature and the literature of ages past—where innocence was not assaulted by graphic imagery and logic was not insulted by magical thinking—is in the legacy of a moral reality where actions had consequences. Whether you attach the word “sin” or “mental illness” to a specific cause/effect relationship does not change the fact that stories need to follow the rules embedded in our created humanity. Reinventing reality is very much like insisting that we can drive on any side of the road we want, and no one will crash into us. Letters need not be in any particular order to relay meaning; our readers should understand.

There is more to writing than simply pleasing ourselves. Often writing is hard because it doesn’t please the author, it challenges the author to think, to feel, to discover something he or she didn’t know before, though it existed as profoundly as the sun in the sky or the earth underfoot. The gift of a good story is not the reinvention of reality but the clarification of our mental, emotional, and even spiritual lenses so that we as readers—or watchers—comprehend a piece of truth. Perhaps for the first time.

What is our moral soul to do? How do we protect the innocent child in our midst? Evil exists. Sexual impurity, violence, and deception abound. Hiding is not a viable option. As a reader and a viewer, I have developed a low tolerance for graphic imagery. It has become rather like an allergy. The older I get, the less I can take before I turn away to clear my head and cleanse my spirit. Quality authors have a knack for alluding to the crises of life—sin and deception—without washing our faces in the muck. I appreciate that very much. They also tend to be sources of insight and wisdom. An honest lens with a moral compass still has something to say, even in our corrupted society. So, I disengage, but I also forge ahead. I discern my literature and television offerings as if an innocent soul matters. Because it does.

When I write—fiction stories, novels, and even non-fiction reflection pieces—I pray that God and His angels help me. Since I am often amazed by what ends up on the page, (usually sounding like someone else wrote it) I figure He must be granting me my heart’s desire. It’s not surprising. He’s the best author I know, and I really want to be like Him.

Ann’s website, The Writings of A. K. Frailey — Novels and Non-Fiction Books, details her books and offers a glimpse of the range of her work—from My Road Goes Ever On, non-fiction reflections about her life as a widow and homeschooling mother raising a large family in these troubled times, to a historical-sci-fi series, OldEarth Encounter, which envisions humanity’s first steps in its relationship with God. Her Newearth series continues humanity’s adventures in a futuristic world where humans are in the minority, trying to stay true to their best selves in a confusing universe.