Shocking Real Life Event, Writing, #YAsaves

Five days ago, my small town was hit by an unexpected tragedy. There were no bells and whistles. No fireworks or crowds. But uncharacteristically, there were gunshots, a statewide car chase/manhunt, death, and tears. Lots of those. So this post is written with a heavy heart.

Three of my children and I were in our driveway shooting hoops and chatting. We're blessed to live in a nice neighborhood, so the only time we see police cars is during their laidback drives through out streets. And as much as I respect our police force, just picture Dukes of Hazard in Hawaiian shorts and straw hats eating donuts. It's not their fault. Nothing happens here. EXCEPT for the other day when three black-and-white's raced along our streets.

My oldest ran over to our neighbor's house only to discover there was nothing wrong. HERE. But real trouble was brewing across the river in our former neighborhood, which is nice just a bit older. The police had gotten the wrong street. Now, I know that sounds lame, but like I said: nothing happens here. Moments later, my son jogged up the driveway as the cruisers screeched away to the real scene in need. And it was more horrific than one little town should endure.

A young husband (32) had chased his wife (30) out of their house and up the urban street. He shot her and she dropped in the middle of the street while children played outside...and their two young children watched, screaming in horror. Witnesses say, he caught up to her, bent down and whispered in her ear, and then shot her twice in the head. One of these witnesses was a fifteen-year-old old friend of my sons. His view was out his bedroom window.

The young family appeared to be happy, although lately it's stated that the couple had been arguing. But who doesn't argue?? I intend no ill view of the military when I add this, but the husband was a Marine, who was apparently standoffish when he returned from Iraq and had never quite been the same. Something was off but not off enough to justify help. I wish I knew where that fine line tread.

Family and friends are in shock, and our town has come to a standstill. Councilors were sent the following morning to the elementary school where the two now parentless children attend the 2nd and 4th grade. The junior high and high school was also attended to.

How does one explain such a senseless tragedy? Is there really an explanation? 

Tying this into writing ~ when a senseless element of life crosses your path does it affect your writing? Or better yet, do you think it affects you as a writer: the way you process serious topics in a scene or have a character internally handle them? And how dark do you go?

I've yet to chime in concerning the #YAsaves hashtag in response to the WSJ article of Young Adult Literature. But this local tragedy has made me explore my feelings on the subject. SPEAK, Laurie Halse Anderson's amazing book about a young high school girl who endures the horror of rape, is a great example of how a true life experience put within the confides of fiction can be the road to healing and recovering for some, and open awareness to others. Yes, the book has been held up to scrutiny. But life is not always pretty and sweet, and teens do undergo rough situations--as do younger children like in my town right now.

As a teen, I was not a huge reader...for pleasure, that is. But I was a major movie buff. Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast club, The Outsiders, Iron Eagle, Youngblood are just a few. Even the first few Nightmare on Elm Street flicks--the first one where I learned how to fully appreciate Johnny Depp...ALIVE.

Despite what any adult thought of these films, they were my escape, my way to deal with whatever new life lesson my teen psyche was butting heads with. They also were a teacher. Through the teenage character's lives, I was able to find someone who understood me and let me ponder my experiences through theirs on screen. They were a road aiding me in finding myself ~ the real me. The YA literature of today is exactly that. And I'm proud to be a part of it.

So you tell me: if a writer decides to use the above tragedy in a fictional YA or MG story to move the reader, to provoke the reader's thoughts about life and the importance of community do you think that's exploiting it?