Tag: rainbow rowell

Fangirl: The book that reminded me that Writing = Therapy

As I’ve said before, one of the things that has helped me cope with my anxiety/depression issues.  There’s a few reasons for this, and I’ll get into that shortly, but I wanted to write what basically amounts to a thank you note to Rainbow Rowell, author of Fangirl, and talk a little bit about how I found a wonderful creative outlet…and, maybe, how you can too.

First, my personal history.  Ever since 8th grade, I’ve loved to write.  Like most young, male teenage authors, the first thing I ever wrote was…uhh, Star Wars fan fiction.  It was terrible, but that’s completely besides the point.  At the time, it made me extremely happy, and why not?  It gave me the opportunity to create, and feel like I was part of a franchise that I adored.  During my teenage years, writing continued – I wrote two full-length novels (unpublished, of course, probably because they were pretty bad).  In college, as the anxiety and stress continued, I tried my hand at poetry.  Again, it gave me…something.  The chance to express what I was feeling, and in putting it on paper, leave a piece of it behind.

What I remember the most about these novels, even more than their plot, is that they helped me cope.  Novel number one was about my family history, the loneliness that came with it and just being a teenager in general.  Number two was working through some of the challenges I had in my family at the time.

Both novels gave me hope.  They gave me a sense of control.  And in my worst, most loneliest moments, they gave me something to hold onto.  Not for nothing, but novel #2 never made it through revisions.  Once I came to peace with what was happening in my life, I more or less stopped writing it.

This was all in high school.  Fast forward fifteen years: I’m married, two wonderful kids and a State Representative.  To my surprise, I managed to achieve a dream and become a published author, but a non-fiction book: Tweets and Consequences.  

It was around the first half of 2015 that I hit a rough patch with my depression, arguably one of the rougher ones I had hit in years, maybe even since college, when my depression and anxiety really first began/exploded onto the scene.  At the time, I remember feeling misreable and just so helpless, searching desperately for a way out that I just couldn’t find.

What wound up pushing me to a better place was writing.  And what helped get me there was Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell.  From the book:

In Rainbow Rowell’s Fangirl, Cath is a Simon Snow fan. Okay, the whole world is a Simon Snow fan, but for Cath, being a fan is her life-and she’s really good at it. She and her twin sister, Wren, ensconced themselves in the Simon Snow series when they were just kids; it’s what got them through their mother leaving.

Reading. Rereading. Hanging out in Simon Snow forums, writing Simon Snow fan fiction, dressing up like the characters for every movie premiere.

Cath’s sister has mostly grown away from fandom, but Cath can’t let go. She doesn’t want to.

Now that they’re going to college, Wren has told Cath she doesn’t want to be roommates. Cath is on her own, completely outside of her comfort zone. She’s got a surly roommate with a charming, always-around boyfriend, a fiction-writing professor who thinks fan fiction is the end of the civilized world, a handsome classmate who only wants to talk about words . . . And she can’t stop worrying about her dad, who’s loving and fragile and has never really been alone.

For Cath, the question is: Can she do this? Can she make it without Wren holding her hand? Is she ready to start living her own life? And does she even want to move on if it means leaving Simon Snow behind?

The book resonated with me because the main character, Cath, is clearly having major adjustment issues to college (as I had) and discovering who she is.  She uses her writing to cope and get her to a better place, and the book details her struggle in terms of finding a voice that is authentic and truly belongs to her.  Cath is clearly a talented writer, and the book explores her writing journey, meshing with her adjustment to college, family separation, romantic experiences, academic struggles and more.  I’d also argue – and many others have also made this comment – that Cath is clearly suffering from some form of depression.

And that is exactly where the book hits a chord for me.  I remember there being one scene where Cath is in an advanced writing class with older students, and the professor – a big time author, if memory serves – is asking the class why they write.  One student answered “therapy.”  And that’s a note that just rang so, so true to me.

For me, writing was always a therapy for a variety of reasons:

  • It allowed an escape.  An idealized world where every situation could be reasonably thought through, all alternatives explored, and all potential problems dealt with accordingly.
  • It allowed me the chance to work through problems, to put myself in someone else’s shoes.  In a sense, I think writing allows you to sort the various parts of your head and put them somewhere better.
  • It allows you to mark the moment.  And I don’t mean remember.  I mean something stronger.  To carve it into your consciousness and make sure that the emotional core of an event – everything you are trying to deal with – are always remembered.  Every feeling, every sensation.
  • You can play God.  Play the hero, play the villain, whatever you want.
  • Ideally, you can work through your past, and channel it into something good.  I think that’s an important theme of my overall mental health journey: Once I realized I could go public, and help other people in the course of doing so, I became a better public official and a better person.

To those of you who write, in any form, for mental health purposes – I feel you.  And to those of you who don’t – maybe give it a go.

 

An overview & critique: Depression in fiction books

For reasons that I will inevitably wind up discussing more in-depth later, this is a topic that I am very interested in.  After all, there is no doubt about it: So much of our world is informed by our media, including fiction books.  Major pop culture phenomenons – books like Harry Potter and The Hunger Games, for instance – wind up having a major impact on a whole slew of societal attitudes, everything from the names of our children to the hobbies we play.

Of course this extends to serious issues, like mental health.  As I sat, thinking about this entry, I came to the realization that I cannot think of too many books I’ve read that explicitly feature stories about characters who feature mental illness – even when the book is potentially about something other than mental illness.  This is important from a stigma perspective: I think it is vital that readers hear stories about people with mental illness living a successful life, despite their challenges.

Now, please don’t misunderstand: Just because I haven’t read them doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.  A very quick Google search reveals no shortage of books that discuss exactly this topic.  And, indeed, many of these books touch of mental illness in a more tangential way.

Two young adult books that I’ve read immediately come to mind.  One is Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, which discusses a young woman moving to college and dealing with a slew of pressures, then finding therapy in her writing.  Another, Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet by Joanne Proulx, features a character who clearly is struggling with depression and anxiety, even though it goes unspoken throughout the novel.

I’m coming at this from the perspective of Young Adult novels, which I must confess, I still enjoy (a quick look at my Goodreads page will confirm this!).  But, from the perspective of mental illness, there is an important reason for discussing this genre in particular: 50% of all mental illness starts at age 14, and 75% by age 24.  If this issue can be addressed early enough – particularly during it’s onset – it can make a big difference.

I suppose my point is this: As best I can tell – and, again, admittedly, I could be wrong, please correct me if I am – it seems like mental illness in fiction is addressed in one of two ways:

  1. It is completely undiagnosed, leaving readers guessing or playing armchair psychiatrists, and that’s never a good idea.
  2. It is the centerpiece of the book.

Don’t get me wrong, neither of these things are necessarily bad in and of themselves.  I’m just having this conversation from a stigma perspective.  The first option listed above can be problematic and fail to fully address a characters illness, which can lead to misguided perceptions about the way that mental illness works.  The second option can be good, but it, too, can make people think that mental illness is somehow more debilitating than it truly is.

Also, please understand, I’m not criticizing any author or book.  Many of the ones that deal with mental illness – directly or indirectly – are powerful, and it’s not possible or fair to be critical of an author simply because they don’t address a particular issue in a way I want to see it done.

That being said, from a stigma perspective, that’s what I’d love to see more of.

Any thoughts to add, or books I am missing?  I’d really love to know – if only to read them!  Please let us know in the comments.