I generally write for personal pleasure. Occasionally, I write for financial gain. Beyond hoping that something that dribbles out of my digital quill might strike someone as entertaining, however, I have rarely thought of writing as something I do, or could do, to help people directly. Not so much because I’m a selfish jackass, but because I never really considered that my writing might be used to achieve that goal. And then we lost Sarah.
Dr. Sarah Pettrone passed away on July 25, 2014, at the unjustly young age of 38. She was a surgeon, and she was passionate about what she did—so much so that rather than vacation at the beach with a Mai Tai (well, okay, she might occasionally have done that), Sarah undertook several trips with Surgicorps International, an organization that provides free surgical and medical care to disadvantaged individuals in developing countries (see surgicorps.org for more). She joined a cadre of other doctors who volunteered their time and talent to travel, at their own expense, to places like Bhutan, Ethiopia, and Honduras to perform procedures that immeasurably improved the quality of people’s lives. Sarah had a gift, and she used that gift to do good in the world.
As I’m sure Sarah herself would have attested (no doubt gleefully, given her penchant for needling me), I’m by no means as skilled with the keyboard as she was with the scalpel, and I can’t use words to fix a cleft palate or restore function to a shattered hand. But, I can tell a pretty good story. And I can use that skill to help people in need.
I’ve pledged to donate $1 to Surgicorps for every copy sold of The Camelot Shadow—not just in memory of Sarah, but also to recognize and give thanks for her inspiration. I have every intention of telling many more stories in my life, and I am committed to donating some portion of the proceeds of everything I ever publish to organizations that enable people to leverage their talents to do something good for the world, whether that’s feed the starving, aid the sick, or fight for justice on behalf of those who cannot do it themselves.
I fear that Surgicorps is unlikely to reap a substantial windfall from my meager pledge (I mean, how many people out there really want to read a Victorian-set pseudo-historical mystery involving Arthurian lore?), but what if we all commit to doing something we love, something we’re good at, to make the world a better place? Everyone does something well—maybe it’s not something as immediately impactful as being able to heal the sick and injured, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to use our gifts to benefit others.
Individually, our efforts may register as little more than barely discernible pinpricks of light in what feels like an increasingly dark world. Multiply those small but significant efforts by a few thousand, or a few million, or a few billion people, though…now we’re a vast constellation stretching across the night sky, one whose brilliance can inspire and guide those struggling through even the darkest nights.
That’s a pretty cheesily melodramatic metaphor (my stock in trade), one that I have no doubt would have made Sarah roll her eyes. But that doesn’t change the fact that she was one of the bright lights in that constellation, and there’s no better star to steer by than the one that never fades, the one that is an ever-present reminder to keep dreaming of something beyond ourselves.
The sky is vast and there’s plenty of room for us all. Here’s hoping we all make it up there together.
