I write a lot about hope. This isn’t a theme I settled on. It was not suggested by a marketing firm or some PR expert. Not divined in a dream or vision. It just happened. Hope runs deep in the foundations of who I am and who I aspire to become.
If you follow me on social media, you may have noticed that I’ve been underscoring hope with the “Hope Lives” tagline in my Write Crowd Publishing spaces. I realized a short while ago that whenever someone asks me what I write about, I never had a simple answer. My answer was always too complex to be helpful. “I write anything and everything that comes to me,” I would say. “Horror. Comedy. Fantasy. You name it.” And, while that’s true in a sense (and it’s also true that not every story has hope as its theme), it’s hard to deny that hope—and our desperate need for it—drives much of my fiction. Why not own it? What’s so embarrassing about longing for hope?
In my novella, The Willing, The Wounded, and The Wizard, Dylan Drake steps into an ongoing investigation to bring a bit of hope to reporter Neveah Wheaton. His mentor, Darke, is offering a faint glimpse of the stuff to the citizens of Ka’al even though he’s uncertain whose hope he’s offering or if he has any to spare. And Azael, our arrogant wizard, misunderstands what sort of hope Ven Islen wanted him to secure for the people of Ordwell. All three men operate in hopeless situations, each to varying degrees of success.
Much of the fiction I come across today—especially within the genres I’m most drawn to when writing—seems, if not devoid of hope, somewhat suspicious of the stuff. There’s a pessimism that seems to have settled into our bones. A hesitation to believe things could get better, situations could improve, people might have good intentions, bigger hands could be at work in the muck and mess of our lives. I suppose, in some ways, I’m merely counterbalancing my environment.
Hope, though important, can certainly be handled incorrectly…and false hope isn’t worth the empty words required to offer it.
Hope is a necessity often overlooked or, if present, over-baked. Where it’s missing, the fiction is bleak and nihilistic, offering readers a grim and somewhat skewed view of humanity. I’m unopposed to dystopian fiction, dark horror and fantasy, and unhappy endings, so please don’t take this article as an attack on those things nor me making an argument that every story needs a happy ending, a solid moral foundation, or a positive outlook. That’s not the case.
Hope, though important, can certainly be handled incorrectly…and false hope isn’t worth the empty words required to offer it. We’ve all likely seen some cheesy movie that sells such a saccharine version of it even the least cynical among us roll our eyes in disbelief. Or one of a certain greeting card network’s made-for-TV affairs that has some high-powered female exec falling in love with a small town poultry farmer who, after an hour and a half of will-they-won’t-they, wins the lady’s hand and convinces her to trade the hustle and bustle of the big city for feathers and chicken, um, stuff. Yes, a love story like this is possible, but it stretches probability to the point of silliness.
The hope I’m talking about, though, is a simple thing. Help from a stranger in a time of need. Or the ear of a good listener when the day has been long and hard. It’s the earnest prayer of a child. A text from a friend to tell you they’re thinking of you. It’s the hope that we’re not alone in the big scary world. That we matter. That, whatever today looks like, tomorrow might hold something better.
In my first foray into fantasy, The Witches of Greyfolk (soon to be re-released in a new revised edition), Darke leaves the story, knowing Azael and the friendly pirate, Captain Islen, are in for a rough road. He leaves them with these words:
“There are bright days ahead before the long night sets in. Keep hope close and your wits keen. When your story seems most dire, friends, try turning the page. Any good thing might await you there.”
And that’s it.
That’s what I’m trying to incorporate into my work: no matter how bad a moment may seem, you lack the perspective to see the potential for good things on the horizon. Now, it’s true that sometimes tomorrow is worse than today—not better. Good things often come in later chapters when we want them now. But I believe if we can keep turning those pages, we’re bound to find something worth rejoicing in. Something worth hanging on for. A light that the growing darkness will not overcome. Hope…that our story is written with purpose and there’s grace enough to see us through to “The End.”
