Control the Narrative Using Your Art

I could talk all day about why I love being a creative, but one thing that often goes unmentioned is how the release of each one of your projects sends tiny, seemingly insignificant pieces of you floating into the world. Sometimes it’s just a fact of the trade. Most of my protagonists love cheesecake simply because I do. Sometimes it’s much more than that. Being a creative means having a dedicated avenue through which to control the narrative and tell your story your way.

Ten Toes Down in the Studio

Watching other creatives puff out their chests and tell their stories their way fills my heart with a warmth and delight that rivals Christmas morning for twelve-year-old me. It’s one reason I love rap; as far as I’m concerned, rap beefs are legendary. Forget subtweeting your rival or leaking falsities to some two-bit blog. You better take your ass to the studio and put it on a beat.

Every time rapper, Megan Thee Stallion, does exactly that, I fall in love with her a little more. She suffered under consistent public criticism since July 2020 when she was shot in the foot and her latest single, Hiss, addresses several artists, blogging platforms, and even the general public for their response to the incident. True to Bad Bitch form, the track caused a huge commotion that had rapper Nicki Minaj and her sex-offender husband on the evening news. But Megan isn’t new to this, and the machine gun spray comes only two months after her other single, Cobra, which was her first release after she was shot.

In it, the rapper speaks candidly about suicide ideation and her experience with dealing with depression in the public eye. She’s explicit about her devastation when so many people abandoned her after she spoke up about the violence she experienced. It was an honest portrayal of some of her lowest moments, immediately recognizable to other black women who have been scorned and isolated because they refused to stay silent about abuse they experienced at the hands of (often black) men around them. All of it brilliantly scored by her percussive rhythm and the smooth flow the rapper is known for. Both tracks were a top-tier listening experience and left no uncertainty to Megan’s state of mind and her determination to stand up and say what needs to be said.

Sing it, Sister

Going to the studio to get something off your chest isn’t exclusive to rappers. During the SAG-AFTRA strike in summer 2023, pop princess Ariana Grande came under fire when she started dating Ethan Slater, who may or may not have been married at the time. In the vacuum caused by the striking entertainment industry, allegations that Ariana is a habitual homewrecker had her trending online far beyond the typical 24 hours that most people spend being the main character on social media.

Cut to the release of her pop single Yes, And? In the video, Ariana breaks out the character shoes and gives us about three minutes of pulsating synthetics, precise 8-counts, and her trademark airy vocals to tell us, in no uncertain terms, to mind our goddamn business. Whatever your opinions on her alleged pattern of behaviour (and believe me, I have plenty!) you can’t deny that she gave us a hit while asking us the hard-hitting questions.

Your Life on a Wall

I latch onto musical examples because they’re often the easiest to find. But using your art to control the narrative isn’t limited to musicians and it doesn’t have to be reactive. We fiction writers especially, have the privilege of miles of blank canvas on which to pour ourselves. In his book, On Writing, Stephen King says “You undoubtedly have your own thoughts, interests, and concerns, and they have arisen, as mine have, from your experiences and adventures as a human being… and you should use them in your work.” So maybe the boss you hate is the villain in your new fantasy story. Or your latest ghost story takes place in your childhood home. Some of the most moving fodder you can use to add depth and detail to your work are things drawn directly from your lived experience. There are even times where your lived experience aren’t just additional details to bring life to your art, but the entire basis on which your art exists.

I recently went on a mural tour hosted by the BIA in Little Portugal in Toronto (next tour hosted Feb 24, 11am) where I found one of my favourite pair of pieces. A set of murals by artist Mony Zakhour, they both contain the artist’s signature style, but are distinct from one another. Most notably, the earlier piece is a gray-scale abstract, while the more recent piece uses bold purples and reds. Our tour guide eventually revealed that the colourful piece was done after the birth of Zakhour’s first son, and even includes his contributions. In this way, our creative works stand as records of the lives we lead, good or bad. When we celebrate our milestones through our art, we give in to the innate desire that gave us Stonehenge, the pyramids, and even Mount Rushmore: the need to leave a legacy that proves we were here.

The ‘I’ in Write

Alice Munro, author of Lives of Girls and Women sums it up nicely in her interview for The New Yorker when she says, “The stories are not autobiographical, but they’re personal in that way. I seem to know only the things that I’ve learned. Probably some things through observation, but what I feel I know surely is personal.” Our stories may tell others we were here, but they’re so much more personal than that. They are the impact we make on this floating rock we call home, the destruction and formation we leave in our wake. They’re the amalgamation of our likes and dislikes, our successes and failures. They contain pieces of all the people we have ever loved and our favourite nooks and crannies in places we like to go. They personify the things we believe in and the values we hold in our hearts and give life to our hopes and dreams, and our fear and pain.

More than that, our art provides an avenue through which to navigate the things that make us feel stuck. I wrote the first draft of my short story, Maybe In Another Life, to process my pain over a particularly difficult break up last year which hurt largely because of how incomplete things felt. Using two unnamed fictional characters, I explored the question that percolated in my brain at 2am when I needed to sleep: what would happen if I got a chance to confront this person face-to-face? The result was a bittersweet romance story that I’m pretty damned proud of and the added benefit that using a proxy gave me emotional distance and some much-needed peace around the situation.

Conclusion

In one of my all-time favourite writing craft books, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamont gives one piece of advice I still think about years after I read it. “…I tell my students that they should always write out of vengeance, as long as they do so nicely. If someone has crossed them, if someone has treated them too roughly, I urge them to write about it.” Lamont continues with tips a writer can use to avoid getting sued for defamation, like changing the subject’s appearance, changing their life history, and if all else fails, giving them a tiny penis so they’re too ashamed to draw attention to themselves. However you dress it up, the point remains the same. Your story belongs to you. So sing it, draw it, sculpt it, or write it in whatever way allows you to control the narrative. Let the world see you.