Fija Callaghan

“We who make stories know that we tell lies for a living. But they are good lies that say true things, and we owe it to our readers to build them as best we can. Because somewhere out there is someone who needs that story. Someone who will grow up with a different landscape, who without that story will be a different person. And who with that story may have hope, or wisdom, or kindness, or comfort. And that is why we write.” —Neil Gaiman

“Sometimes a tune is born out of outrage.” —Terrance Hayes

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved to read.

She loved a lot of things, actually, including but not limited to dark chocolate and a man with questionable morals. Eventually, as is often the case in such tales, she was left with only her chocolate and her books and a whole lot of rage. 

She learned that there are certain feelings which can make one feel utterly and inescapably alone. Rage is one of them. So are despair, longing, shame, and fear. 

But here’s what makes people feel like they’re not alone: Stories. 

The raw material of agony and loss, when passed through the alchemical lens of creative illumination, becomes something rather unexpected: Hope. Solidarity. Resilience and renewal. A semicolon punctuating the single-note darkness. 

When I stumbled on this extraordinary universal truth, I realised that as a storyteller I could help people understand that they’re not alone. I could remind them that even in times of hardship there is beauty and hope and strength. I could, in my own small way, shape the world into a more resilient and compassionate place. 

This is why I write.