Alison Middleton on reading, writing, joy & creativity

Telling the truth of our authentic human experiences is a life priority for this week's guest contributor

Pema Chodron once wrote that compassion becomes real when we recognise our shared humanity.

For me, it’s our stories that break through. Stories slip through the ribs to the heart of apathy and crack our shared shell of perpetual numbness to reach the core of what makes us human.

If you’re the sort of person who ‘needs the stats’, then you should know that research by Dr Jennifer Aaker in the Stanford Graduate School of Business found a story is up to twenty-two times more memorable than facts alone.

As a former news reporter, digital producer, and editor turned writer, I categorically believe that if you show me what you read, it will reveal who you are.

This isn’t a post about snobbery. I’m not here to judge the paperbacks you hide when your literary friends come over, and the good tableware comes out for the first time since Christmas.

After all, I’m a writer of romance, a genre that is often belittled, shamed and mocked. Romance is what’s paying for the proverbial publishing party, but there’s more at stake here than my feminist gloating about the success of a market that has women at its heart.

Like many people, I discovered a love of the romance genre in 2020 when the pandemic hit, and I needed a distraction that provided a certain level of emotional certainty. I’d always considered myself to be well-read, but I was surprised with the voraciousness of which I seized on to the prospect of a happily ever after, or, at the very least, a happy for now.

Personally, I don’t care what you read. But I beg of you to read widely. Your choice of genre doesn’t matter so long as you read books that share the lived experiences of people from diverse backgrounds, communities, religions and countries who think differently from the way you do.

That’s important because we need each other now more than ever. In a time when the world is once again facing fascism, racism and misogyny, in a time of fake news, banned books and AI, it’s not unreasonable to question whether we can trust what we hear and see.

The story of today’s living history may not be captured in breaking news reels and pages of newspapers. However, writing does provide a platform to raise awareness of some of the huge social and political challenges that the world faces today.

Now is the time for writers to tell the truth of our authentic human experiences, whether that is via romantic comedy or memoir, flash fiction or speculative fiction.

My current work in progress is a romcom with a neurodivergent protagonist, which tackles issues such as the rise of manospheres, neofascism, censorship and book bans, not to mention women’s sexuality and the challenges of the modern dating scene.

There’s a lot to unpack there, but as a woman who experienced her own late-in-life ADHD diagnosis, I write in part to make sense of the world around me. Sometimes, that feels messy and raw or sore to touch.

Writing has taught me patience, to take up space and to be brave in telling my own human experience. It’s unlocked a depth of vulnerability that I never could have imagined, helped me find joy and led me through grief to healing.

It’s also taught me to be loud in my celebration of others. As one friend once told me, a rising tide lifts all boats, and there’s room for us all in this harbour. My love of writing has brought me to the staunchest and most loyal of communities, and for that, I will always be grateful.

So yes, stories remind us of our shared humanity. If we cannot find the diverse, complex and heart-achingly honest stories we need, we must have the courage to write them ourselves. The world needs us to find the necessary words.

My story is one of joy and creativity. Trauma, yes. Neurodivergence? Definitely. But also one of celebration and connection.

And if you come across one of my stories, whoever you are and wherever you come from, if it resonates, just know that I wrote it for you.