The Story Behind the Stories We Believe
By Louis A. Rivera
We are a nation of storytellers—and believers.
Every news cycle, every election, every war, whistleblower, or scandal is part of a narrative. A hero. A villain. A threat to freedom. A promise of restoration. Ancient story arcs repackaged for the digital age—supported by polling data, AI graphics, and algorithmic reach.
History repeats—even if it doesn’t always rhyme.
But here’s the thing: like in the dramatic arts, the stories we’re told rely on familiar tropes. The themes are recognizable, almost comforting. And because they feel familiar, we often gloss over the deeper truths embedded in the narrative.
The line between fact and fiction—between news and entertainment, opinion and objective truth—is fading. Until it no longer matters. The imagined futures of Orwell, Vonnegut, and Atwood now read like blueprints. Fictional foreshadowing manifesting in present reality.
I’m a novelist by nature, a political observer by necessity. My work lives in the tension between what we’re told and what we intuit—between official truths and lived realities. In After Dallas, I explored what happens to people crushed beneath history they didn’t choose but are expected to believe. In my next book, Intolerance (working title), I’m pushing deeper into the spectacle of violence, extremism and how media turns tragedy into palatable consumer content.
This newsletter is an extension of that work.
What You Can Expect Here
Myth & Consequences will be part essay, part excavation—a space to explore how storytelling shapes political life, and how political life, in turn, shapes the stories we tell ourselves and one another.
Here’s what you’ll find:
Essays connecting headlines to historical patterns and cultural myths
Reflections on power, moral compromise, and the psychology behind public events
Notes from the writing desk—on how fiction can reveal truths that facts sometimes can’t
Occasionally, short narratives or character sketches when a story demands telling
I won’t write to break news. Others do that well.
I’ll write to break patterns—to interrogate the narrative frames, to expose the tropes, and ask better questions.
Why Now?
Because the distance between fiction and fact keeps shrinking.
Because disinformation is mainstream.
Because retribution is now a viable political strategy.
Because the American story is being rewritten in real time—by people who understand the power of narrative, even when they weaponize it.
We’re not in a “post-truth” era. We’re in a hyper-truth era, where everyone has a version and few have the patience to sit with contradiction. That’s where writers—especially those who straddle fact and fiction—can offer something meaningful.
A Personal Note
I’ve spent years inside the minds of characters who are conflicted, compromised, or complicit. And what I’ve learned is that most people—even the dangerous ones—believe they’re on the right side of history. What separates us isn’t always ideology. It’s the stories we’re willing to believe about ourselves and the world.
If you’re still reading, I suspect you believe in the power of stories, too.
I hope you’ll subscribe, follow along, and share this space with others who are hungry for something slower, deeper, and maybe a little uncomfortable. There’s value in sitting with complexity—and power in examining how narrative helps us see the world differently.
Thanks for being here.
Let’s follow the thread and see where the story leads.
—Louis