Sean Parker is an asshole

Introducing Lindsey Johnson's writing and how it moved me

I’m struggling with how personal this piece is. I promised myself I would be genuine throughout this process, but it feels too specific to me and not like I’m really offering anything to an audience.

That message, shared for all of us to see, was my first indication that what I was about to read was going to be good. I had no idea how powerful it would be.

This week, Write of Passage 10 started. Hundreds of students joined from all over the world, all with the goal of starting or expanding a writing habit. As an editor, I get to help those students find their voice, going from first draft to published essay every week. It’s a sacred act, helping someone else learn who they are through writing. The message above was from one of those students.

Reading that piece brought me to tears. The first time I read it, I got choked up, but held back the tears. The second time through, I was crying. By the third and fourth, I was balling. I even cried as I told my wife about the first draft of this essay. It was the same feeling I had when I read When Breath Becomes Air — that emotional mix of cheering, crying, wishing things were different, and being humbled that someone I’ll never meet in person could move me so much. In other words, it was a life lesson on humanity in 1200 words.

In The Social Network, Sean Parker offers advice to the early Facebook team.

Sean: A million dollars isn’t cool. You know what is cool?

Eduardo: You?

Sean: A billion dollars

That line always stuck out to me. When I was in the military, dreaming about making it big, I couldn’t imagine having the guts to think about a billion dollars. It just seemed so ambitious! But that’s the thing about ambition, eventually it just becomes normal. Until one day I realized that the only ideas I ever thought about were how to make a billion dollars. Not the company. Me.

Sean Parker is an asshole. If it takes a billion dollars to be cool, then no thank you.

You see, when your goal is a billion-dollar valuation, or connecting the entire world, you forget that it's our stories that make us human. The willingness to be vulnerable with another person, the courage to go first, even the refusal to play the game. Those moments are a silent act of defiance as the world tries to hijack our attention and drive us towards outrage. They’re sacred acts of rebellion. Much like Jesus cleansing the Temple.

My favorite part about reading great literature is the little lessons about what it means to be human. I finish a great book and go kiss my wife. I look at my children differently. I smile more; worry less.

Toward the end of A Walk In A Park In The Rain, George Saunders wonders what the point of fiction is. Does great fiction have to change the world? If stories help us see the world in a way our logical mind can’t handle, then is that the bar we set for great writing? He — and I — don’t know.

I want to believe that stories have the power to change the world. I want to put a copy of The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Frankenstein, Anna Karenina, or When Breath Becomes Air into the hands of every world leader. My heart tells me the world would be a better place. But I don’t know how to square that belief with the fact that history draws a straight line from Romanticism to Fascism — to Hitler no less. I don’t know what to say when I realize that 47 years after Anna Karenina was written, the great artistic renaissance in Russia was over and Stalin was committing unspeakable horrors. My heart’s wish is not quite as steady.

But maybe it’s enough for a great story to change the reader in some way. When I read a story, I become a different person after having read it. As I said, I interrupt my wife’s work meeting because I can’t wait to give her a kiss. I embarrass my kids with some extra attention. I see my humanity in a way I didn’t see it before. Whether it’s my first read or my hundredth, I still change through the experience. In my mind — and George backs me up on this one — that’s a pretty good bar for stories.

Lindsey Johnson, BSN, RN

has changed the way I see the world in her act of bravery. I hope that I have the poise and courage to face death the way Brian did. I'm inspired to embrace my weird sides just a little more. And if this is your first introduction to Lindsey's writing, I'm proud to be able to offer you this gift. Go read this essay. I promise you'll be moved because of it.

Sometimes You Have to Run

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Latham

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