Some of my most well-received posts were written from wounds, including my most read post ever, which was written the week my dad passed away. There’s a certain rawness that’s harder to capture after your scars are formed. There’s validity and nuance to both approaches, which is why I’ve never liked the "write from your scars, not your wounds" advice. Most writing advice is situation-dependent and it's easy to find counterexamples from writers, both famous and otherwise. Also, it's totally okay to write from your wounds and never hit the publish button. I've found that it can be incredibly therapeutic and cathartic to do so.
This is such a good discussion to dive into and hits close to home my own writing.
I also find my best pieces are written from wounds but you’re spot on with pain as reality distortion.
It’s also scary as heck. To put myself out into the open, to be judged, or even just seen.
I’ve also noticed with my favourite musicians, they’ll often write their music in an emotionally intense place but then perform them later when they’re much more alright. But then they also see people resonate with all their past pain.
Thanks for reading Tommy. Really interesting point about musicians - hadn't considered that, and it does bring in a different dynamic. For what it's worth, your writing has been excellent, wounded or otherwise.
In a way, I agree with the "write from your scars, not your wounds" advice. In certain situations.
1. If your writing shows up on social media where anyone can respond to it, you're taking big risk in hitting publish while you're still emotionally raw. I've learned the hard way, over and over, that if I'm looking for emotional validation and empathy, the wild, open internet is the worst place to look for it.
Before I share something personal on the internet, I have to ask myself, "Am I in a place where I'm feeling confident and secure? If someone leaves a comment calling me a self-centered, whiny, over-privileged b**** with a bad haircut, can I let that go or will it ruin my week?"
2. I'll just speak for myself here. When I'm right in the middle of burnout/grief, I am not thinking straight. Often, my dominant emotion is anger and I'm looking for someone to blame. It's authentic, raw, and real in the moment, but not really fair to the people I'm blaming in the moment. A year or 2 or 10 of perspective often reveals that the people I hated at the time were also in pain and coping as best they could.
BUT
I agree that there are some beautiful songs written from a place of deep, unfiltered pain. Anson Seabra's emo songs carried me through the first 6 months of the pandemic when I needed help putting into words how awful I felt. I'm glad Anson picked up a pen and wrote from his wounds.
If you have a mature audience who cares about you (and from what I've seen, your subscribers do seem like solid people), that might be a great group to share your raw writing with. It's a beautiful thing when we share our hearts with others and they love us in return. It's a great gift. And we don't get to receive that gift if we only share our most polished work.
I love your writing, Alex. Thank you for sharing with us.
Thanks for the thoughtful note and the kind words Pam! You make two excellent points. Sharing stuff on the internet is its own hairy beast, one with a bunch of externalities that you rightly point out need to be factored in. And yeah, I've definitely had plenty of moments like yours where in the heat of it I hand out blame like candy. It's a dangerous game, to be sure. But yeah, I couldn't have said it better: "It's a beautiful thing when we share our hearts with others and they love us in return. It's a great gift. And we don't get to receive that gift if we only share our most polished work."
I'm grateful for you subscribing, and reading, and being a part of a group of very solid people indeed!
This whole piece is just so well articulated Alex. I love how you offer thoughtful considerations on both sides of the argument without a foregone conclusion. The writing from the open wound perspective requires a lot more courage in my experience. And ultimately it seems that a balance between our ability to witness what we're going through but also allow ourselves to be seen in the middle of it makes for compelling writing. You said it so well here, "But there is also a space between the strongholds of sensemaking, a messy liminality that is as accurate a picture of the human condition as there is. When we share from this space, we invite the reader to sit with us in our suffering, to resist our shared temptation to solve or escape the discomfort and simply be with it. "
Thanks Rick. I think you've gotten to the heart of the thing - there has to be a level of courage and semi-detached observation in the moment that goes along with the rawness of it. That strikes me as a key ingredient that could be the differentiator.
I’m so glad you decided to write about this Alex. That comment from Steven has stuck with me ever since it came from his mouth. Even more so, I’m glad that you were able to take his comment and interpret it into a realization so moving. There is rarely human experience void of pain, I too think that we are denying much more than we are giving by shielding others from the art that comes from open wounds as we trudge through them.
Thanks Haley, I thought what Steven said might've struck you as well :) I appreciate the kind words and thoroughly agree with this: "There is rarely human experience void of pain, I too think that we are denying much more than we are giving by shielding others from the art that comes from open wounds as we trudge through them."
I find writing about fresh wounds to be some of the most inspiring, powerful work out there. It also comes the most naturally where you're only thinking about the wound, not about the right words to use, how it will be received, or any of the internal chatter that typically negates free flowing creativity.
Earlier this year I lost all my savings in a hack (dw I got it back) and that night blindly wrote out a stream of consciousness thread that was the most well received post I've done. I never planned out a logical progression of thought with interesting takeaways or anything I'd typically do in my writing but it ended up having a greater impact than any of the times I do sit down and try to think about how to make the writing interesting.
Man, I'm glad this story had a happy ending. That's nuts. But kudos to you - in that moment you had a phenomenal perspective and resolve that doesn't come easily. Great sentiments. And yeah, totally agree with your point about it coming the most naturally because you're writing from a place of feeling.
Great post, Alex. I think you're keying in on a really nuanced topic as it relates to writing.
Personally, I think it's much harder to write well about very fresh wounds. It's too easy to let the emotion -- the powerful emotion -- cover up poor (or, maybe not even poor, but rather unpolished) writing. Good writers -- great writers -- the Woolfs, the Kahlos, the Nelsons you mention -- have a foundation from upon which they can build "that primal essence" into something spectacular. But, it isn't easy -- and not everyone can do it well. When done poorly, it can often read like emotional self-flagellation for the sake of a couple likes*.
For better or for worse, though, this type of writing, raw writing, is in vogue right now. I understand the allure publishing a piece that rips at the heart of what you're feeling -- it feels (and, don't get me wrong, is) cathartic. And, as you write, readers are into it as well. There is a direct emotional connection; the piece "dances and screams, rips and roars, wreaks havoc and ruins your day."
So what's a writer to do? Perhaps I'm misinterpreting your position, but I think there is a third path. You can let wounds form into scars and write about them without it being "measured, polished, and objective." You can unleash that emotion onto the page while it's fresh, while the wound is open -- but you can also leave it untouched for awhile; you don't need to immediately hit publish. Like wood, which burns better after it's been seasoned, not when it's green, you can let your work mature. You can come back to it with a little less fire in your belly, you can revise it, refine it, distill it down to an even more powerful essence. In my mind, that's the best approach to take.
But, what do I know? I just stick to sermonizing about food ;)
* And, please! I don't want you to at all think this is how I feel about your writing -- even at it's most raw! But I'm sure you've come across this type of writing, wherein the author draws upon their wells of unprocessed trauma just for the sake of writing about.
Man, such a thoughtful note Lou. I appreciate this. There definitely seems to be some level of artistic foundation for those who transmute their pain into something beautiful rather than self-flagellative (is that a word?) and navel-gazey.
And it is totally in vogue right now, which I'm not sure is a good thing. To your point in the first paragraph, vulnerability has become really transactional. That is gross and not the place from which disclosure - or anything disguised as creative work, for that matter - should come. I have definitely seen plenty of the writing you're talking about, people indulging their unresolved shit for the sake of validation, and it's not pretty. There's a fine line.
Great callout on the third path - I created something of a false dichotomy with the measured/polished/objective bit. I think that the wood metaphor is an excellent one, and the idea of unleashing the emotion when it's fresh and then coming back to it after some time is probably the best of both worlds. Perhaps even more so for the developing writer. But it is something special when artists find a way to transmute their wounds into work that moves people, and I'm really interested in uncovering the common thread when it's done well.
Some of my most well-received posts were written from wounds, including my most read post ever, which was written the week my dad passed away. There’s a certain rawness that’s harder to capture after your scars are formed. There’s validity and nuance to both approaches, which is why I’ve never liked the "write from your scars, not your wounds" advice. Most writing advice is situation-dependent and it's easy to find counterexamples from writers, both famous and otherwise. Also, it's totally okay to write from your wounds and never hit the publish button. I've found that it can be incredibly therapeutic and cathartic to do so.
Well said on all fronts, and props to you for having the courage and perspective to share meaningful writing after your dad passed.
This is such a good discussion to dive into and hits close to home my own writing.
I also find my best pieces are written from wounds but you’re spot on with pain as reality distortion.
It’s also scary as heck. To put myself out into the open, to be judged, or even just seen.
I’ve also noticed with my favourite musicians, they’ll often write their music in an emotionally intense place but then perform them later when they’re much more alright. But then they also see people resonate with all their past pain.
Thanks for reading Tommy. Really interesting point about musicians - hadn't considered that, and it does bring in a different dynamic. For what it's worth, your writing has been excellent, wounded or otherwise.
For what it’s worth, I’ve never found your writing cringey or whingey when you’re discussing shitstorms.
Also, Steven Pressfield?! What is this Cantina?!
Coming from you, it's worth a lot!
It was really cool having him. The Cantina is a group of some wonderful folks that came out of Write of Passage!
Your writing always amazes me. The last paragraph of this post was amazing!
Thanks Bunny!
What a great discussion! I'm so torn.
In a way, I agree with the "write from your scars, not your wounds" advice. In certain situations.
1. If your writing shows up on social media where anyone can respond to it, you're taking big risk in hitting publish while you're still emotionally raw. I've learned the hard way, over and over, that if I'm looking for emotional validation and empathy, the wild, open internet is the worst place to look for it.
Before I share something personal on the internet, I have to ask myself, "Am I in a place where I'm feeling confident and secure? If someone leaves a comment calling me a self-centered, whiny, over-privileged b**** with a bad haircut, can I let that go or will it ruin my week?"
2. I'll just speak for myself here. When I'm right in the middle of burnout/grief, I am not thinking straight. Often, my dominant emotion is anger and I'm looking for someone to blame. It's authentic, raw, and real in the moment, but not really fair to the people I'm blaming in the moment. A year or 2 or 10 of perspective often reveals that the people I hated at the time were also in pain and coping as best they could.
BUT
I agree that there are some beautiful songs written from a place of deep, unfiltered pain. Anson Seabra's emo songs carried me through the first 6 months of the pandemic when I needed help putting into words how awful I felt. I'm glad Anson picked up a pen and wrote from his wounds.
If you have a mature audience who cares about you (and from what I've seen, your subscribers do seem like solid people), that might be a great group to share your raw writing with. It's a beautiful thing when we share our hearts with others and they love us in return. It's a great gift. And we don't get to receive that gift if we only share our most polished work.
I love your writing, Alex. Thank you for sharing with us.
Thanks for the thoughtful note and the kind words Pam! You make two excellent points. Sharing stuff on the internet is its own hairy beast, one with a bunch of externalities that you rightly point out need to be factored in. And yeah, I've definitely had plenty of moments like yours where in the heat of it I hand out blame like candy. It's a dangerous game, to be sure. But yeah, I couldn't have said it better: "It's a beautiful thing when we share our hearts with others and they love us in return. It's a great gift. And we don't get to receive that gift if we only share our most polished work."
I'm grateful for you subscribing, and reading, and being a part of a group of very solid people indeed!
PS looking forward to checking out Anson Seabra
This whole piece is just so well articulated Alex. I love how you offer thoughtful considerations on both sides of the argument without a foregone conclusion. The writing from the open wound perspective requires a lot more courage in my experience. And ultimately it seems that a balance between our ability to witness what we're going through but also allow ourselves to be seen in the middle of it makes for compelling writing. You said it so well here, "But there is also a space between the strongholds of sensemaking, a messy liminality that is as accurate a picture of the human condition as there is. When we share from this space, we invite the reader to sit with us in our suffering, to resist our shared temptation to solve or escape the discomfort and simply be with it. "
Thanks Rick. I think you've gotten to the heart of the thing - there has to be a level of courage and semi-detached observation in the moment that goes along with the rawness of it. That strikes me as a key ingredient that could be the differentiator.
I’m so glad you decided to write about this Alex. That comment from Steven has stuck with me ever since it came from his mouth. Even more so, I’m glad that you were able to take his comment and interpret it into a realization so moving. There is rarely human experience void of pain, I too think that we are denying much more than we are giving by shielding others from the art that comes from open wounds as we trudge through them.
Thanks Haley, I thought what Steven said might've struck you as well :) I appreciate the kind words and thoroughly agree with this: "There is rarely human experience void of pain, I too think that we are denying much more than we are giving by shielding others from the art that comes from open wounds as we trudge through them."
I find writing about fresh wounds to be some of the most inspiring, powerful work out there. It also comes the most naturally where you're only thinking about the wound, not about the right words to use, how it will be received, or any of the internal chatter that typically negates free flowing creativity.
Earlier this year I lost all my savings in a hack (dw I got it back) and that night blindly wrote out a stream of consciousness thread that was the most well received post I've done. I never planned out a logical progression of thought with interesting takeaways or anything I'd typically do in my writing but it ended up having a greater impact than any of the times I do sit down and try to think about how to make the writing interesting.
https://x.com/jpurd17/status/1635485723091513345?s=20
Man, I'm glad this story had a happy ending. That's nuts. But kudos to you - in that moment you had a phenomenal perspective and resolve that doesn't come easily. Great sentiments. And yeah, totally agree with your point about it coming the most naturally because you're writing from a place of feeling.
Great post, Alex. I think you're keying in on a really nuanced topic as it relates to writing.
Personally, I think it's much harder to write well about very fresh wounds. It's too easy to let the emotion -- the powerful emotion -- cover up poor (or, maybe not even poor, but rather unpolished) writing. Good writers -- great writers -- the Woolfs, the Kahlos, the Nelsons you mention -- have a foundation from upon which they can build "that primal essence" into something spectacular. But, it isn't easy -- and not everyone can do it well. When done poorly, it can often read like emotional self-flagellation for the sake of a couple likes*.
For better or for worse, though, this type of writing, raw writing, is in vogue right now. I understand the allure publishing a piece that rips at the heart of what you're feeling -- it feels (and, don't get me wrong, is) cathartic. And, as you write, readers are into it as well. There is a direct emotional connection; the piece "dances and screams, rips and roars, wreaks havoc and ruins your day."
So what's a writer to do? Perhaps I'm misinterpreting your position, but I think there is a third path. You can let wounds form into scars and write about them without it being "measured, polished, and objective." You can unleash that emotion onto the page while it's fresh, while the wound is open -- but you can also leave it untouched for awhile; you don't need to immediately hit publish. Like wood, which burns better after it's been seasoned, not when it's green, you can let your work mature. You can come back to it with a little less fire in your belly, you can revise it, refine it, distill it down to an even more powerful essence. In my mind, that's the best approach to take.
But, what do I know? I just stick to sermonizing about food ;)
* And, please! I don't want you to at all think this is how I feel about your writing -- even at it's most raw! But I'm sure you've come across this type of writing, wherein the author draws upon their wells of unprocessed trauma just for the sake of writing about.
Man, such a thoughtful note Lou. I appreciate this. There definitely seems to be some level of artistic foundation for those who transmute their pain into something beautiful rather than self-flagellative (is that a word?) and navel-gazey.
And it is totally in vogue right now, which I'm not sure is a good thing. To your point in the first paragraph, vulnerability has become really transactional. That is gross and not the place from which disclosure - or anything disguised as creative work, for that matter - should come. I have definitely seen plenty of the writing you're talking about, people indulging their unresolved shit for the sake of validation, and it's not pretty. There's a fine line.
Great callout on the third path - I created something of a false dichotomy with the measured/polished/objective bit. I think that the wood metaphor is an excellent one, and the idea of unleashing the emotion when it's fresh and then coming back to it after some time is probably the best of both worlds. Perhaps even more so for the developing writer. But it is something special when artists find a way to transmute their wounds into work that moves people, and I'm really interested in uncovering the common thread when it's done well.
Thanks, Alex — Excited to see you keep unraveling that thread!
Very thoughtful. My two cents....be yourself.
That advice is worth at least a dollar!