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Making A Difference

By Jenna Glatzer

 

 I watched Awakenings for the millionth time the other night. Great movie, but it wound up depressing me for more than the obvious reasons. At the end of it all, I was left with the sinking feeling that I wasn’t doing anything important with my life.

 

In the movie, Dr. Sayer finds a drug that helps catatonic patients regain their awareness of life. Although the drug’s effects aren’t permanent, he gives them their lives back for a few months. He gave hope to families, friends, and everyone who suffers from mental illnesses.

 

And what have I done lately?

 

What troubled me most is that, in the film, Dr. Sayer didn’t want to work with patients. He was a researcher, and that’s all he wanted to be. But he was needed elsewhere, so he did what he had to do, and that’s where he made all the difference.

 

Me? I have a big brain. It occurred to me that I am smart enough to be a doctor, a scientist, a researcher, a surgeon… I never wanted to be any of these things. In fact, the thought of any of them turns my stomach. But what if I’m robbing the world of the potential cure for cancer? What if, in my studies, I might have ended the AIDS epidemic, or wiped out Parkinson’s disease?

If Dr. Sayer hadn’t answered that call—if he had stayed in his lab and continued doing what he "wanted" to do, that miraculous summer would never have happened. Maybe I was being selfish by writing. Maybe I was supposed to be doing something that would make a difference in the world. Improving conditions in South Africa. Finding water on the moon. Disarming nuclear weapons.

 

And then I had a thought that let me sleep: I would never have known about Dr. Sayer if it weren’t for Steven Zaillian.

 

The screenwriter.

 

And Steven would never have known about Dr. Sayer if it weren’t for Oliver Sacks, who wrote the book. And Oliver probably wouldn’t have known about him if a journalist hadn’t reported the story.

All of those people made a difference in my life. They brought the message to my living room. They told me what Dr. Sayer was doing. They taught me an important lesson about hope and determination and never giving up on people. They inspired me, and undoubtedly, countless others.

 

If no one reported important medical findings, doctors would be in the dark. Thanks to journalists, an isolated scientist in Wyoming who’s been working on isolating a breast cancer gene can learn that a team in New Jersey has just found the exact link he needs to connect the pieces in his puzzle. A dying man can find out about an experimental drug study that might save his life.

And, speaking of medical findings, someone had to write all those textbooks that were the basis of doctors’ learning. Someone had to translate confusing research into language that medical students could study, interpret, and improve upon.

 

Someone like me, or you.

 

Perhaps writing is a more humble form of making a difference, but it is possibly the most important piece of the puzzle.

 

You know the saying "if you don’t learn from history, you’re bound to repeat it"? Well, how is anyone supposed to learn from history if someone doesn’t write about it? All of these traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation… all of the lessons we’ve learned… word-of-mouth would never have sufficed. No, today, we search for records of the earliest writers. When someone uncovers an ancient manuscript, it’s a huge triumph, because it helps us unlock the secrets of the universe and of our history as human beings.

 

Even diaries… Anne Frank… writers don’t have to believe they’re writing for publication to make a difference in this world. Every time we take pen to paper and note what our world is like today, we have the potential to change the world. We can further understanding, bring insight, teach, inspire, entertain, comfort, and delight. As we’re writing, none of us have any idea of what impact our work may have. Our words may be read in schools two hundred years from now, or they may be read tomorrow by a single woman in another country who just happened to need those words at that moment. Or they may only be read by our friends and family—and that’s valuable, too. Maybe your siblings or your old best friend will smile today at a poem you wrote. Maybe that smile was the only bright spot in that person’s day.

 

It’s already happened to me. I’ve gotten letter after letter from people who’ve told me that something I wrote changed their lives. A woman fighting a battle for her disabled son learned that she was not alone because of a piece I wrote; she is using my writing to help her explain her case to government officials. Another woman wrote to tell me my advice helped her to sell her first book.

 

Even less-obvious forms of writing make a difference. Press releases I’ve written have helped to launch people’s careers. That, in turn, has helped someone support his family.

 

And I’m not even dead yet. Lordy, everyone knows that good writers are never fully appreciated until after they die. At this rate, I expect there to be a national holiday in my name someday!

At this moment, if you've ever put out a piece of your writing for public consumption, you have no idea what kind of impact you may already have had.  A very small percentage of readers respond directly to writers (especially if contact information isn't included), but that doesn't mean they haven't been moved or changed because of your work.

 

What we are doing has value. Every one of us. Writing is a noble profession. Long after we’re gone, our words can live on and carry the message of our lives. What’s your message?

 

Be it fiction or non-fiction, books or poems or technical reports or reviews or plays or screenplays or greeting cards, you have the potential to improve lives. How many times have you picked up a greeting card that helped you express your love to a person with whom you can’t always easily communicate? Or seen a movie that took you away to a great fantasy land that helped you escape the troubles in your life? As a child, how many times did your mother re-read that same old well-worn book for you, animating the voices and teaching you about the value of your imagination?

What we put "out there" in the world should be the best representation we can give. Tell the stories that matter. Don’t guard them. Don’t hide away your own true stories for fear of privacy intrusion. Your own story may be the most important gift you can give the world, because it shares the wealth of knowledge, insight, and beauty that you’ve earned through your time on this planet.  Figure out what it is that you care about deeply, what has made a difference in your life, and what you wish you could share with others-- and then share it.  Spread that joy, understanding, hope, and enlightenment that comes directly from you.

 

And when your work is rejected (like all of ours is), pick yourself up, dust yourself off, revise as necessary, and get it back out there again. If you know that what you are writing is important, then don't let anyone stop you from sharing it.  Bang down those doors to publication any way you can.  

 

Lend your talents where they are needed. Give a voice to those who can’t express themselves. Give clarity to those whose lessons should reach an audience. Give your words to children, to teenagers, to adults, to senior citizens, to the sick and dying, to the healthy, to the leaders, to the poor, to the rich, to the quiet ones and those who will shout your message from the rooftops. Keep giving your gift. You WILL make a difference.