There is no happy ending
I spent a decade unsuccessfully attempting to write salable historical romance. After 4 completed novels, I gave up. My problem? I couldn’t do interpersonal conflict. Characters tormented by internal conflicts? No problem. Conflict between the protags and the bad guy? No problem. But between hero and heroine, who were supposed to love each other? It made me sick.
Literally. My stomach rolled over and my hands shook. I cried. I threw up. We had a running joke that when I wrote the darkest part of my story, my critique partner needed Valium to get through getting me through it. In the end, I decided I just couldn’t write something that demanded that of me anymore. I write more gentle things now and I’m much happier, if not any more successful.
It’s not just in my writing. I know I promised not to make you listen to anything about my therapy, but I’m making an exception because I think it’s relevant.
The major issue I have to confront in making myself healthy is anger, both my own and that of others. Last week, my therapist asked me what was the first thing that came to mind when I thought of anger. Instantly, the word “violence” was on my lips. My early life taught me this was true, and I still feel the effects of it. When confronted with anger I avoid. I appease. When I can’t do either of those of those, I melt down until I need drugs to calm me. Someday that won’t be true anymore, but for now I have to begin dealing with it.
How is that relevant now? Because of what’s happening in Iran.
I’m following multiple news outlets, including #iranelection on Twitter. The latter, in particular, is extremely upsetting to me. The immediacy of it twists my gut. It’s real, it’s now, it’s happening inside my own head. I remember Tiananmen Square and the massacre that happened there. I remember the protests in Myanmar, and the massacre that happened there. Now, I see the pattern happening all over again.
I feel sick. I cry. But I can’t look away. I want to avoid and appease. I want them to avoid and appease. Because the established power is getting angry, and violence is the inevitable result. I know it’s coming and I can’t do anything about it.
The worst of it is, I don’t believe it’s going to do any good. It will be Tienanmen Square all over again, then the world will go on like nothing happened. I’ll still get up and make coffee in the morning, talk to my children on the phone, and cook spaghetti for dinner.
And whether I change my icon to green, or tweet “stay strong” or read every single thing to come across the wire, I’m not going to change anything. People are still going to die over this conflict.
And in the end, it’s not going to change a damn thing.
I can’t write a gentle ending to this story. I wish I could believe otherwise, but I can’t. Horror is going to happen tomorrow, and I’m going to be sitting here reading about it. Because I can’t help myself.
The world is watching, but it’s Irani lives on the line. We’re cheering on their deaths. And it’s just wrong.
Tagged: Iran > World Events > Writing2 Comments
2 Responses to “There is no happy ending”
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Terry likes gravitars to personalize comments. Don't have one? Make one at gravatar.com!

When this happened twenty years ago in China, I made the mistake of assuring a friend that the protesters were protected from violent group reprisal by international attention. I was stupid then, naive, and I’ve seen plenty more cases in the two decades since I learned my lesson about predicting the future with certitude.
I wish I could tell you something comforting or, conversely, tell you to look away because I know how it’s going to end. I have nothing, but I’m very sorry that this reaches you in these disturbing ways. I do have that: you’re not watching this alone.
I can also say this: the Myanmar junta is not safe and secure because of their massacre; the Chinese government has been paying a slow but real price for Tiananmen (and Zhao Ziyang’s memoirs just came out, which really stung), and trying to assuage the Chinese people with prosperity (which isn’t a bad thing, mostly). Just because they survive in the short term doesn’t mean that they were unscathed; just because our lives go on doesn’t mean we forget or forgive; just because the protest ends doesn’t mean the discontent is gone.
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Thanks, A. There needs to be some cost for violence – I hope that eventually they’ll pay for it.
It’s been a long day watching.
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