I love this. “Writing is like firing a nail gun into the center of a vanity mirror.” I signed up. I've received many confessions throughout this life. It's a sacred act to listen, receive, and hold stories sacred. Thank you, Grant.
Both last week's post and this one re: confessional writing have had me thinking deeply about the label versus a writing technique. I wrestle with the two concepts too often, trying to move my inner critic toward claiming the writing technique instead of listening to the (socio-culturally imposed?) voice of diminishment.
Intimacy is key. By sharing ourselves on the page, we invite others to share not just what we think, but how we think, along with myriad emotional sparklers and firework associations spinning freely from our dark.
Reading such rawness, witnessing such exposure, makes us feel. And perhaps that is why the label is spitballed too easily...it's scary to feel ...to be made to feel beyond the boundaries of our comfort zones.
Confession as a label, like all labels, is reductive...it implies a writer simply spews all their bad news to the page. In reality, such writing, such art--like all art--is curated, collaged, composed.
Thanks so much for your thoughts, Suzanne. I love this paragraph: "Intimacy is key. By sharing ourselves on the page, we invite others to share not just what we think, but how we think, along with myriad emotional sparklers and firework associations spinning freely from our dark."
That phrase, sharing "how we think" is so important. A deeper kind of intimacy than just sharing the what.
I think you're right also re: the "spewing." Confessional writing is thought to be emotional, of the heart not the head, and our culture generally privilege the head. Both in terms of logic and imagination. So confession is seen as something that lacks artistry. Which is why I like Kim Addonizio's take: we want to feel life, and the form of confession helps us feel.
So many things about this post that I love, but I'll stick with the first one that struck me. I am only as sick as my secrets. What if my secret is told to a few people? Is it still a secret? What if it just isn't fodder for everyone? Thanks for the thoughts.
I love this. “Writing is like firing a nail gun into the center of a vanity mirror.” I signed up. I've received many confessions throughout this life. It's a sacred act to listen, receive, and hold stories sacred. Thank you, Grant.
Thanks so much, Parjna!
Both last week's post and this one re: confessional writing have had me thinking deeply about the label versus a writing technique. I wrestle with the two concepts too often, trying to move my inner critic toward claiming the writing technique instead of listening to the (socio-culturally imposed?) voice of diminishment.
Intimacy is key. By sharing ourselves on the page, we invite others to share not just what we think, but how we think, along with myriad emotional sparklers and firework associations spinning freely from our dark.
Reading such rawness, witnessing such exposure, makes us feel. And perhaps that is why the label is spitballed too easily...it's scary to feel ...to be made to feel beyond the boundaries of our comfort zones.
Confession as a label, like all labels, is reductive...it implies a writer simply spews all their bad news to the page. In reality, such writing, such art--like all art--is curated, collaged, composed.
Still thinking...thanks for this.
Thanks so much for your thoughts, Suzanne. I love this paragraph: "Intimacy is key. By sharing ourselves on the page, we invite others to share not just what we think, but how we think, along with myriad emotional sparklers and firework associations spinning freely from our dark."
That phrase, sharing "how we think" is so important. A deeper kind of intimacy than just sharing the what.
I think you're right also re: the "spewing." Confessional writing is thought to be emotional, of the heart not the head, and our culture generally privilege the head. Both in terms of logic and imagination. So confession is seen as something that lacks artistry. Which is why I like Kim Addonizio's take: we want to feel life, and the form of confession helps us feel.
So many things about this post that I love, but I'll stick with the first one that struck me. I am only as sick as my secrets. What if my secret is told to a few people? Is it still a secret? What if it just isn't fodder for everyone? Thanks for the thoughts.
Thanks, Susan. I agree: a secret can be revealed but doesn't have to be fodder for everyone. We have to protect ourselves sometimes—and others!