Akash Palani: "Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Love Telling Myself Stories"

Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Love Telling Myself Stories

by Akash Palani

“No, Varoon, how could you betray me like this?” I cried, barely holding back tears as I brandished my wand through the rain. Sadness, defeat, and dull anger gripped my heart. I was hyperaware of my surroundings, hearing every raindrop pelt my exposed arms, seeing my neighbors friendly, suburban backyard in vivid, imagined, detail, with smoke fogging the environment and arcs of magic flying through the air.  I felt the spark leave my wand, and I saw it hit him.

Then, we went inside for a glass of milk.

The earliest I can remember myself telling stories to myself was in the second grade. My neighbor and I spent innumerable hours pretending we were wizards. Naturally, as children of the 2000s, our obsession with wizards came from none other than the Harry Potter franchise. Immersing myself in this imagined world, one that we made up as we went, provided me with freedom- freedom to be completely, unashamedly, myself- or whatever else I felt like being.                                   

My neighbor was one few I considered “friends” at that point in my life. I was never part of a large group of friends, a point of concern for my father. I distinctly remember that as a child, whenever we were out in public and would see someone with whom I may have had a remote acquaintance, he would point and yell, “Look, Akash, it’s your friend!” (the person would very decidedly not be a friend, and I would elucidate the fact quietly, almost embarrassed).

To my father, and I’m sure to some extent you, the reader, this may seem sad. It isn’t. I submerged myself in all things sfnal, devouring most material that came my way. All of that reading trained my mind to be imaginative; created worlds were my resting place. At any idle moment, my mind would wander to the extraordinary, and this complete immersion and the joy it caused me was part of the reason I was completely ok with my small group of friends. Together, we read, played pretend, and enjoyed ourselves. David Hartwell, in his essay The Golden Age of Science Fiction is Twelve, really did accurately portray me as a science fiction reader: slightly awkward, ravenous for any new material, and impatient with the ordinary.

Since middle school, I have become much more social, and the amount of speculative fiction I consume has decreased greatly, replaced by the New Yorker, the Wall Street Journal, and other such news and culture publications. Thus, the frequency and reason I tell myself stories has changed with time, of course. Rarely do I have time to run around outside with my neighbors; I attend a boarding school now, so that’s hardly a possibility.

But I still do tell myself stories. It’s actually become an extremely valuable tool for something I would never have expected: leadership. Throughout my time at IMSA, I have made an effort to stay involved with and serve my community through various positions of leadership, from Student Council to coordinating our school’s leadership program. When approaching a problem, I identify its story, and fill in the missing piece. How did the problem arise? How has it affected people? And the question that requires the most imagination and storytelling on my part- how can it be effectively solved?

Drawing on the other “stories” I’ve read and imagined- in newspapers, in magazines, even in fiction- and using how other people have approached problems to inform my own decisions. With nonfiction, journalistic publications, this approach is easily defended. In the realm of fiction, especially in the speculative with which we are primarily concerned, this may seem a little far fetched. So, I’d like to offer an example as demonstration. In Harry Potter, Professor Dumbledore leads the Order of the Phoenix and mentors Harry. He acts carefully, withholding information as necessary and providing careful, calculated guidance to his followers to ensure the optimal outcoming, ultimately prioritizing the survival of his cause over his own. Although I am not involved in secret magic organizations dedicated to holding back evil incarnate, his actions as a leader are a good guide. Often, when faced with tough choices as a leader, I retell the story of Dumbledore’s choices in my own context, imagining my own obstacles as analogs for what he experienced. Seldom can I act directly inspired by the Professor, but his calm, calculated considerations guide me to assess my own situations in a similar manner, prioritizing my teams and the best possible outcomes.