The Magic of Writing Just a Little
On how good it feels to have a daily practice of humble scribbling
When I created this Substack the idea was to sediment a habit of regularly writing for myself. I’m a self-denying person in various ways, forgetting to eat, shower, or otherwise do the things that feel nourishing to me. Writing is just one of the many activities that make me feel alive and connected to the world, which I sacrifice in order to spend my time solely on other people’s needs. As such, my blog here was a subversively egotistical endeavour.
Recently I noted that my goal is already accomplished. I wondered why I post much less both here and everywhere else, and realised it’s because I’m regularly practicing offline writing. I open up my Pages-doc every day, and then I write. I sit down not for a set amount of time, so sometimes it’s only ten minutes before a child calls out, or my paid work becomes so urgent I can’t ignore it. But other times I remember to activate “don’t disturb” and close my email app and then it becomes a longer and more expansive sitting.
It’s gotten to the point where my writing practice affects my thinking and actions. For me this is the reward to end all rewards. It’s a mindful yet sassy way of being in the world. It’s a histrionic, but still grounded modus. At least it is now that I’m a mature ass woman, but come to think of it, writing did actually make me lose touch with my moral compass when I was in my twenties. Around seven years ago, I was writing creatively more than I ever had before, while also having the trope of an existential crisis that can hit a novelty-junky soon-to-be 30 year-old, when she realises she hasn’t crossed out all the most youthful items on her bucket list. So I created an alter ego. Think: If Hannah Horvath’s bestie Jessa had her own show set in Berlin. I could get this reckless woman in trouble, and spare myself the consequences but still imagine all the fun. However, this practice must have given me the air of an up-to-no-good person, because soon I started finding myself in some really far-out situations. I’d impulsively act the part of my alter ego, and this created a ton of chaos. So much so, that this was one of the reasons I left the city of sins, so I could settle down in the Danish suburbs (yaaaawn!).
But more generally, when you’re regularly writing, while being a millennial who simply cannot divorce her perspective from her writing, being in a creative groove most of all means getting round-the-clock therapy. When really dramatic and shitty things happen, and I can’t derive any immediate meaning from the painful experience, I can still always “work with it” in my writing, but also indirectly in my therapy. A therapist/writer with a broad frame of reference is essentially a better therapist/writer than someone who has lived a pain-free, riskless life. The pain I’ve endured, some of it random, some of it self-inflicted, makes me a better therapist and writer, because I can better relate to that specific flavour of “being in pain”. The experience adds authenticity and flavour to my empathy. This makes for more effective — and enjoyable — writing and therapy.