Putting your thoughts to paper is said to make you more creative and be good for your mental health. In my own attempt, I learned what else writing therapy can do.
There are some hobbies that you drop super quickly. Then there are hobbies that you turn into a profession. In my case, the former was pottery, the latter writing. As early as primary school, I was writing seven-page essays in German class. Handing back my last ever high school test in the subject, my teacher, who I looked up to, commented, «You’re very good at waffling – but I do hope you’ll grow out of it one day.» He still gave me a «Very Good» for my grade.
Writing in order to recover from a day ... full of writing? I’m not sure whether this is a good idea yet. On the other hand, what could go wrong? It’s worth a shot.
Hypnowriting: what can I achieve with a pen and paper?
Writing therapy: let it out, write it down!
The power of pen and paper
The lovely descriptions of my surroundings suddenly give way to demands; a set of rules for my oasis. I surprise myself with the rapid change of tone. In my writing, I specify who has access to my oasis and who certainly doesn’t. Demands shoot out of my pen until my hand hurts.
The voice on the tape then gently asks me to put my pen to one side. I stop attacking the paperand take a breath. And suddenly: relief. My facial muscles relax, while my hand starts to feel light. Like the paper before I made it heavy with the weight of my words. I realise that what I’ve written on the page has arisen from a very deep recess of my mind. This writing exercise has definitely fired up more than just my creative energy or flow moments.
Verdict: the effect of writing expressively
I was astounded at what came out of my writing meditation. I wouldn’t have thought that my writing experiment would escalate so quickly when all I was actually looking for was a distraction, creativity and a new perspective on writing. Instead, writing with pen and paper proved to be a gateway to deep-seated and perhaps unconscious needs.
Fancy reading an excerpt? Here you go: «A moth is sitting next to me, iridescent grey-brown. I think it’s smiling at the fact that today might be the last day of its life.»
I'm a sucker for flowery turns of phrase and allegorical language. Clever metaphors are my Kryptonite – even if, sometimes, it's better to just get to the point. Everything I write is edited by my cat, which I reckon is more «pet humanisation» than metaphor. When I'm not at my desk, I enjoy going hiking, taking part in fireside jamming sessions, dragging my exhausted body out to do some sport and hitting the occasional party.
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Nevertheless, even the best of relationships need work, so when I learned about the technique of hypnowriting – a form of writing therapy – my ears perked up. Therapeutic writing is said to be able to relax you, enable deeper sleep, boost creativity and provide a way out for when your mind is spiralling. As a form of this type of therapy, hypnowriting is also based on the assumption that some feelings and emotions need a path to the surface that isn’t revealed by talking therapy.
My phone and laptop are sitting on the desk in front of me. That’s my first mistake. After all, the most important thing when hypnowriting is to do so with pen and paper. As Ursula Neubauer, a Vienna-based writing therapist and hypnowriting coach, points out: «Writing by hand activates several areas of our brain that make us more creative.» A study conducted by Seoul National University demonstrated the same thing. The research team proved that creative writing had a positive impact on writing fluency within the context of students’ university life. Writing by hand is a vital part of this process, as the findings of researchers from the University of California have also demonstrated. The areas of the brain activated include the frontal lobe and the limbic system, where personality, creativity and emotions reside.
The particularly effective thing about writing therapy is the change in perspective, says Coach Neubauer, «When we write, we become more observational. Suddenly, I can look at what I’ve written from an external perspective, gaining some distance from the problems I was stuck on moments before.» Using a pen and paper to escape the trap of repetitive thoughts? Sounds right up my street.
Incidentally, you don’t need to be good at writing to do writing therapy. In fact, you should forget everything you learned in school, Neubauer says: you don’t need style, grammar or lyricism. Perfect, I think. I don’t feel like producing anything highbrow today anyway. I grab a pen and paper and put my laptop to one side. That said, I can’t close it completely, as I’ve decided to do a writing meditation guided by audio tapes, which I’ll be playing on my laptop.
I start the first tape: the relaxation oasis. I’m supposed to spend 15 minutes writing about how I picture this place and what I want it to be like. After all, studies show that writing down our goals and desires increases our resilience and makes us happy. Neubauer’s voice then gently prompts me to close my eyes and focus on my breathing. I’m not quite feeling the concentration, happiness or resilience yet. And when I hear «as you breathe out, let go of everything you don’t need at the moment», I think of my upcoming deadlines and immediately tense up. My relaxation oasis is shrouded in a thick blanket of cloud.
Finally, the voice in my ears goes quiet – as do my thoughts. Upon hearing the sound of a wind chime, I’m meant to start writing. Out of a chaos of clouds, a little house surrounded by forest suddenly appears in my mind’s eye. I write: «It smells of freshly cut grass, rain, damp earth and a bed of lavender. Besides the sound of a chirping bird, it’s quiet. The wind blows, the trees rustle.» My hand starts moving by itself, like a puppet. Releasing pent-up thoughts that finally want to get out.
My sentences get shorter and shorter, filling the notebook page by page in a rapid staccato. It doesn’t feel like meditation at all. Instead of being relaxed, I’m enraged. Why, oh why is that the case in a place that’s supposed to relax me?! Quite the contrary: it turns into a catalyst for all the strain of the previous weeks, bubbling to the surface as a wish list for an imaginary oasis. Why the heck am I never in this wonderful place when I know fine well what it’s supposed to be like?
For me, it was the need for calm – certainly evident from the description of my oasis. «Expressive writing» would be a better description of my experience than «meditation». According to psychologist James Pennebaker, it’s a method that builds resilience. Despite being tense initially, as soon as I put down the pen, I was able to turn my thoughts over to the sheet of paper. As scared as I was, I was then able to look at them from an outside perspective. After that, I was less angry at myself. Less angry about my inability to be calm – or whatever else was bothering me. I felt more at ease, more relaxed.
Not only that, but I felt I could write from a place of freedom again. Just like I set out to do originally. Writing something that wouldn’t be corrected, criticised or even read did me a lot of good. Since my hypnowriting experience, I’ve been writing down my thoughts on a piece of paper right after waking up each morning. It’s a kind of journalling that some have called «morning pages». The stuff I’ve written is pretty random, muddled and difficult to read.
