You can’t write about people being good– I mean, unless it’s phenomenally good, like “double kidney donation” or “carried five men from the battlefield” good. Short of Oscar-gambit biopic material, though, the subject of good people being good just doesn’t yield much by way of content and application. Plus it’s boring. People are good. Like, 90% of people 90% of the time are literally walking around NOT murdering each other. And then, like, 83% of those people do their best to be nice and respectful and keep all the laws that don’t involve traffic. Moreover, I’d have good odds betting that you (dear reader) feel genuinely cared for by 100% of the people you tend to keep around as your close friends, and that all of you (or, like, both of you; I won’t judge) spend a significant amount of time trying to improve each others’ lives. In other words, you’d consider yourselves to be “good people”. And that’s just it– nobody wants to read about what they already do every day. It’d be like writing about my event-less and non-thought-provoking walk three blocks to campus: there’s a reason I’ve never written about my apparently strict “never use a crosswalk” policy. Look, of course people are good. Of course people are genuine and caring and are just looking to make friends and get through life having laughed a couple times. If that weren’t the case then the made-up non-murder statistic from before would surely be much lower. But if we only ever write, read, and talk about what we’re already doing then we’ll never imagine ways to stretch ourselves and become better. I guess what I’m saying is you should never shy away from exploring the extremities: the darkest, the weirdest, the most fantastic sides of humanity. The real trick is to wring these things from the everyday stones along your path. As long as you remember where your reality lies, I think you’ll find that there’s only insight to be gained, and learning.
Now here’s a picture of Edgar Allan Bro because how else would I illustrate my point.