Anxious millennial artists will get their due

We are at a cultural crossroads, a battle between artificiality and reality — humanity — a moment that will define a generation.

Historically, America is in a period of cultural crisis. Bombs are being dropped while war declarations remain on standby, the value of a dollar is questionable at best, and every institution in the country reeks of casual villainry.

If you’re a millennial, you too came of age at the onset of the crisis: “Welcome to adulthood. Here’s your six-figure debt and a sinking dollar that won’t save you. Good luck!”

We haven’t yet seen an upswing and so, of course, we collectively feel terrible. The flavor of your terrible feeling may include hints of hope or apathy, but it’s there under the skin, roiling within us all, a quiet moshpit in which we’re waiting for someone’s nose to break. And the current oval-office squatter . . . don’t get me started.

Meme culture at its most profoundly grotesque (and what’s worse is that I fear we’re not yet done electing meme politicians. Yuck, huh?)

Millennials have fought and scraped for every damn thing we have achieved — just like we learned from our Gen-X parents (assuming you were lucky enough to have parents, at least one, who gave a shit. I did, and I will be forever grateful to them both.), but the circumstances in which we fight and scrape are different. The culture is different now than it was 30 years ago in America.

What changed?

Too much. Not enough. I go back and forth on this.

On the one hand, the federal government still hasn’t learned the meaning of the words “freedom” and “diversity” and really likes trampling on the bill of rights — the bastards — which seems quite regressive, indeed, and demands a whole lot more bodily autonomy (and far fewer laws controlling the body, an essay for another day). On the other hand, however, we’ve innovated ourselves into plastic food and lifestyle-driven system dependency. Oh, where to begin!

The millennial generation has, up to this point, lived through part of the cultural unraveling and has spent our entire adulthood mired in crises. However, as the seasons change, so too does culture. Social critic William Strauss and historian Neil Howe wrote, “A saecular winter is indeed an era of trial and suffering, though not necessarily of tragedy. Though it can produce destruction, it can also produce uncommon vision, heroism, and a sudden elevation of the human condition.”¹ Historically, this means we are coming to a turning point which will usher in a cultural high.

Preserving humanity and nature — preserving reality — the diversity of our unique stories is the best way to usher in the an arts renaissance during the high, and we’re already seeing it in action.

Ted Gioia writes The Honest Broker, a newsletter borne of his expertise in the music and arts industries, and recently shared in an article titled, Audiences Prove that Experts Are Dead Wrong:

“[M]any of the dominant digital trends are causing great harm. But they are unsustainable.

So they will reverse.

Things will get better. And that will happen even though the forces aligned against creative vocations and human flourishing appear to be huge—so much so that many have given up hope.

The return of long-form art, the return of human creation, is happening quietly behind the scenes and reaching real people outside of algorithms and meme culture and doom scrolling. That’s why I’m still writing my novel and helping other authors write theirs despite the figurative fires being set around the country. It’s why I threw my hat into the ring for The Novelry’s The Next Big Story contest and encouraged a whole bunch of my clients and colleagues to do the same. It’s why I’m learning drums, drawing my own images for MetaStellar’s writing advice blog, and teaching my daughter the value of humanity, creation.

It’s also why I’m seeking out and following the careers of other millennial artists like Amanda Litman, who wrote When We’re in Charge, a “no-bullshit guide for the next generation of leaders on how to show up differently, break the cycle of bad boomer leadership, and navigate the changing demands of those in power and the evolving expectations people have of their workplace,” and Zsike Peter, who’s coming book, Thinkbait, is “about reclaiming not just the act of writing, but the act of thinking. About fighting for nuance, for connection, and for meaning.”

Bringing humanity back to the forefront of culture seems to be the millennial’s charge, and I’m here for it.

Millennials, like the turn of the century GI generation before us, are a generation of heroes. Whether or not you choose to use that word to describe yourself, let’s face it: You’re on a quest of one kind or another, carrying the torch, working hard to right the wrongs blocking your way.

I’m thankful to bear the weight of the crisis period, so my daughter can come into her adulthood during the high and express herself as freely and artistically as she damn well pleases.

I know which path I’m taking at the cultural crossroads.

Do you?

This essay was inspired by The Fourth Turning: What the Cycles of History Tell Us About America’s Next Rendezvous with Destiny, by William Strauss and Neil Howe.

The piddly bits . . .

Join The Novel Nest newsletter and accountability group where fiction authors write and build careers together.

Visit my writing craft shop to grab a copy of my e-book on point of view, download a printable guide, or buy me a cuppa.

1. Howe, N., & Strauss, W. (2019). The fourth turning: What the cycles of history tell us about America’s next rendezvous with Destiny. Bantam Books. (pg. 51)