Using your powers for good

Sometimes, after I walk my little boy to his primary school in the mornings, I will continue on past my house and down the hill to my gym. The path takes me through a wetland that has been lovingly preserved for beavers, coyotes, otters, and all kinds of wild birds. It is a tranquil place despite the busy road on the other side of the marshy fields, and the wide boardwalk is a popular place for dog walkers, bird enthusiasts with telescope lenses on their cameras, joggers, and parents teaching their children to ride bikes. This trail is heavily used by the community, and because of our chilly, damp spring, the verge has been particularly vibrant this year. The large, velvety leaves of Thimbleberry bushes are soft to the touch, various types of willows drape their branches over the paths, and leathery salal plants vie for space against Oregon grapes and salmon berry plants. And our Pacific Northwest nemesis is also here: the Himalayan Blackberry. We don’t mind them in mid-summer when the tangle of razor-sharp vines are full of delicious purple berries, but at all other times of the year, most of us are engaged in a battle to the death with this invasive species.

As I walked along the path this morning to my gym, someone, it seems, took the battle to the blackberries in the park, lopping off swaths of vines that had been reaching out into the path to grope passersby with their painfully spiky grip. I appreciated that a citizen cut this nuisance back from the path, but instead of cleaning up their mess, they left clumps of limp blackberry vines laying in piles where people walked and rode their bikes. I stepped over them on my way to the gym, and expected that they would be gone by the time I returned, but an hour later they were still laying there.

Rather than step over them this time, I started to sweep the vines off the path and into the ditch with my foot. It wasn’t ideal - after all, those vines could put down a root and become a new blackberry bush (don’t believe me? Try being a Northwest gardener sometimes to understand the Himalayan Blackberry’s ferocious battle for survival which defies poison, shovels, weedwhackers, and even goats. Yes, we rent goats to eat our blackberries.)

It was then that I heard a scraping noise behind me. Another man on the path had followed my lead and was doing the same thing, kicking the vines out of the way. Then a couple walking toward me saw what we were doing and they began to shove the piles of leaves and vines off the path, and in less than two minutes it was clear for the bikers and walkers. If you are reading this, here is what you should take from it: doing the right thing is contagious.

This made me think about writing, because I think about nothing else these days. As an independent author, I have to do everything by myself: I designed this website and blog. I had to set myself up as a publisher, lay out my books, hire editors and cover designers, and on and on. But although I am doing all this stuff by myself, it doesn’t mean that I am alone. After years of slogging away through research and writing in almost complete isolation, I did what most writers hate to do, and “put myself out there.” That is to say, I started spending time in my week making friends with other authors and engaging with them on social channels and in conferences. Every connection with a new author leads to a new opportunity, but not just for myself - for the whole community.

Now that I am starting to feel slightly more established, I have turned my mind to ways that I can help other authors. Writing is competitive, and we see each other out there, all struggling together to be noticed among the hoards of other competition. Sometimes we treat each other like that vine-strewn path: we step over the problems and assume that someone else will come along and do the right thing. We see the struggling author who is just starting out and think “thank God that’s not me any more.” Or sometimes we tell ourselves that we are being altruistic, but truly expect someone back in return, such as when we review another author’s work or follow them on social media with the expectation of an equal reciprocal action. Doing the right thing means putting yourself in another author’s shoes and expecting nothing in return.

It’s hard to find the time in between writing, editing, marketing, and the relentless drumbeat of social media to remember to hold out a hand to another author in need, so I schedule it, usually for Wednesdays, and usually for an hour. In that hour, I write book reviews, comment on new social media accounts, and my all-time favorite activity; write fan mail telling other authors if I liked their books. Sometimes I share blog posts by other authors on my Twitter feed, or promote another’s work on my Instagram without being asked to first. What do I get in return? Immense joy knowing that I might have made someone else’s day.

I encourage you to do the same for an author, or other artist that you appreciate. Books, paintings, sculpture, music, and all other kind of art are intensely personal to the individual who created them. If their works speaks to you, tell them! You may not think you have much to offer, but if you can encourage someone or give them a lift, then in my book, you are powerful. Please use your powers for good.

~ E.R.A.