I have noticed that many of the people I work with grapple with the tension between public and private writing.
One thing I’m now convinced of is the importance of making this distinction – between writing that we do for ourselves in our secret, private space and writing that we choose to share or publish. I have seen so often that when people are able to give themselves permission to create secret space, space to write without knowing quite what they are doing or where the words might go, something magical happens.
A friend sent me this link to a news item about novelist Chris Carse Wilson, who wrote his first published novel in secret on the bus.
I was fascinated to hear what Carse Wilson says in the video, especially about the way that he was able to ‘lose himself in the writing’; and the timed constraint offered by the fixed length of the short bus ride. These are elements that will be familiar to the timed free writers amongst you.
I wrote my own first novel in a space at the top of the stairs in my previous house, tucked under a little desk beneath a skylight, as the sun rose each morning. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing – and I think this helped me to hold the writing lightly, to lose myself in the world that I was creating. In that first draft, I wrote easily, not thinking about whether the writing was ‘good’ or good enough. I was simply allowing myself to enjoy the sheer pleasure of the process.
Not all of us write in order to be published. I believe passionately that writing as process is powerful, in and of itself. Actually, for me, the process of writing is the most important thing. I need to write and it’s the way I’ve made sense of the world for as long as I can remember.
Chris Carse Wilson says the same thing – that he’d write even if no one ever read his words. That he writes in the same way that he runs, in order to look after his mental health. I love that idea.
When we’re able to create secret spaces, when we can set aside – even for twenty-minute bursts – the idea of who might read us, we free ourselves. We open ourselves up to new possibilities in a way that we just can’t do if we’re editing or censoring or performing our words as we go.
One of my favourite ‘secret writers’ is Emily Dickinson who, discouraged by dismissive feedback from a publisher who clearly didn’t understand the radical nature of her work, decided that ‘my barefoot rank is better’ and just went on writing for herself.
I’m saddened by the idea that she never knew in her lifetime how much her poems would be valued, admired and enjoyed; but I’m excited by the idea that she decided to keep writing anyway, in her own distinctive and brilliant voice.
How do you create the space you need for your writing?
What kind of space do you need right now in order to write and create? How can you create it for yourself?
If you'd like to join a writing space where you can find solidarity and support without ever needing to share your writing, please do check out WRITE! Club here.
