I have a confession to make: I did not vote in the presidential election. Oh, keep your pants on. It was the 1984 election when Ronald Reagan was still trickling down havoc and I was still in college and furious about the whole political atmosphere. AIDS was killing it’s way through the gay community and even though I lived in Washington, just blocks from the White House, I felt incredibly invisible.

What a difference 24 years makes!

All these years Robin Morgan’s quote, “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention,” has been forever on my lips. And boy, have I been angry. But on Tuesday night, with tears pushing their way through, I felt proud of this country for the first time in a long time. I admit I still have my qualms about Obama. I’m not a one-issue voter, but I do notice his silence on several issues important to me. And before you start lecturing me on the need to move to the middle in order to govern, I’m not buying.

Because on Wednesday morning, waking up to the new rights afforded to California chickens and taken away from lesbians and gay men, I was back to thinking about Robin’s quote and how angry I still am.

The personal is indeed political and in my life, it always has been. So I’ll be watching and wondering where I fit in.

What does all this have to do with writing or reading? Everything.

It is through literature that we learn about human nature. It is through stories that we debate the options life presents us. In stories, moral ambiguity is enlightening, forcing us to continue the discussion, forcing us to continue to look inward for our own personal answers. And when politics intrude, all the better.

So I am sitting down with my characters this weekend for a long talk. No more small, petty actions. We’re going to be thinking big. We’re going to tackle the questions for which we know there are no clear answers. We’re going to feel the politics of this nation very, very personally.