Hi, my name is Bea, and I’m a writer.
The detailed version: I’m a freelance writer for arts-focused organizations. I also write essays, and short stories. Occasionally, some poems.
Here’s the thing, though.
Writing is what I do, but it’s only one part of a larger mission: I’m working to bring more art into the world. Whether that’s through my own work, or helping to birth the work of others, it doesn’t matter—the horizon is the same. A world with more art, and more working artists? That’s the Earth I’d like to live in.
And why that mission?
It’s because I’m living proof.
I’m living proof that art saves people. It helps them live.
My entire life? It is what it is, because of the arts. At my lowest points, great books taught me to believe again. Beautiful films taught me that life wasn’t doomed, because after all, there were still people out there, capable of creating such lovely things. And music? Music’s been with me, in most of my vital moments. Add in the plays I’ve cried over, the operas I’ve drowned in, and, well—you get the picture.
It hasn’t just been the low points, too. If art saved me when I was knee-deep in mud, it was also what taught me to look at the stars. Art can heal us when we’re broken, sure, but what it does best is teach us how to hope again.
So if I know how to dream these days, it’s because art has always reminded me of what people can do.
After all, there’s nothing un-human about Filippo Brunelleschi, is there? Last I checked, he was very homo sapiens. Nothing supernatural about Victor Hugo, either. Same for all the other artists out there: Gertrude Stein, Neil Gaiman, Catherynne Valente, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mary Shelley, John Keats? All human.
That’s what I’ve kept in mind, all these years: these people created sublime things, and they were imperfectly, messily, beautifully human, as they did so.
It’s because of all those experiences with art, that I’ve committed my life to it. Because I know that art can urge people to change their lives, it’ll always be my honor to help it exist in the world.
So my decision to write? To work for arts organizations? Now you understand why I made the choices I did.
But it’s time for you to think, now.
Is art something you love, too? Do you believe in it? And most importantly, are you willing to stick your neck out?
Will you choose the arts, even if it gets difficult?
If you just answered yes to those questions, stick around.
I have a feeling we might get along.