I’ve always felt the need to write. But what drives me to make my writing public? I could just scribble away in my notebook, enjoy the experience, and not subject myself to critique from the wider world, not strive to get my words noticed. It’s hardly the fame and fortune that calls me on, as there’s very little of either on offer in a writing career.
So why do I write in public?
A little while ago, I had a conversation on Notes, with
about this very question. Having casually thrown out there that it was important to stay true to the reason we share our words with the world, I realised it wasn’t something that I had ever really consciously considered, at least not in any depth. Kathryn said the same, and so we both went off to have an actual think about it. Kathryn shared her thoughts here, and these are mine.Being seen
Let’s get this out of the way right at the start - there’s no way I can ignore the fact that a certain amount of this is a massive cry for attention. As a shy introvert, attention is a funny thing. I want to be seen, but I feel physically sick at the idea of putting myself visibly in front of humans. Why I want to be seen when it’s such a painful process is probably a whole other can of worms in itself, but I think at our core all humans feel a drive to be witnessed. Maybe it comes from how important community has historically been to our survival - we need to matter to our tribe or we (our primitive brains believe) will die alone. Some of us feel this drive more than others, though. I wonder how much it has to do with childhood trauma, with not feeling seen as a child. I was badly bullied at school and felt alone a lot; maybe I’m desperately trying to make up for it now by wanting strangers on the internet to like me in enough numbers to convince me that those kids weren’t right about me being a fundamentally unlikable person.
Wow, that got deep quick.
When you struggle with in-person connections, though, writing on the internet is a much safer and more comfortable way to be seen. You can hide in your home, wrapped up in blankets, in your safe space, throw your words out into the ether and then turn your device off and hide. There’s less risk involved than talking in front of humans who can see you.
I also read something recently about writing as an opportunity for validation when you don’t feel particularly validated in your personal life. Like if you’re a mother of small children, for example, and you spend half of your life talking to people who do not listen to a word, and your spouse is too tired and frazzled to hear you either. That resonated a lot. I’ve been thinking about anger recently, and I realised the moments I become most angry are the ones where I don’t feel heard. Putting your words on the internet gives you an outlet for your experiences, and also gives you the opportunity to connect with others who have been there, who might say, “mate, I get it, I see you.”
Approval and celebration
I’ve always had a pretty strong need for approval. I do want other people to tell me, yes, you are good at this thing that you think you’re good at. This thing that is so crucial to your sense of self. I do want people to read what I write and like it.
I’ve made it sound like a negative thing, probably because I’m always hearing how people (often women) need to cure themselves of a “need for approval”. And I undoubtedly worry too much what people think and agonise too much over any perceived criticism. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting your work to be celebrated and appreciated.
I’m always thrilled by how proudly my children march up to me with their drawings - they want to show me everything they create and have me say, “wow, that’s amazing!” Even my three-year-old, who has limited control over what it is he’s drawing, will joyfully hold up his scribbles for approval.
When do we lose that? When do we stop saying, “I made this, look at it!” openly and fearlessly, without any sense of self-consciousness? We get told not to be arrogant, or pushy. We get told that our work isn’t good enough. When I was 8-years-old, an art teacher berated me in front of the class for how bad my painting was. She made fun of it, which caused other children to laugh at me. That memory has stuck with me for 32 years, and still makes me hesitant to share my artworks. It makes me hesitant to even allow myself to create art. If I get nothing else right as a parent, I am determined to celebrate the hell out of every one of my children’s creations. I posted one of my daughter’s artworks on Notes and more than 100 people liked it - I showed her all the little hearts under her picture to let her know that other people thought it was amazing, not just her mum. I love every story she writes, every little scribble her brother presents me with. I want them to maintain that pride in their work for as long as possible, even though I know the world will do what it can to beat it out of them.
I’d love for all of us to present our work to the world more proudly, to feel joyful about saying, “I made this!” But, of course, for that to happen, we would all need confidence that everyone would greet it with a warm, “wow, that’s great!” Or at least not be negative about it. And we know that’s not the case - there are plenty of people who lie in wait for opportunities to shit on people’s efforts at pretty much anything, especially if those people are women, or people of colour, or people from any underrepresented group. People who aren’t in the arena love to slap down those who are, because they feel frustrated that they don’t have the courage to even step into that space. They also want to silence anyone who doesn’t fit the dominant narrative of who should have a voice in our society. Unfortunately, it’s working - so many of us get scared to share our work at all for fear of that abuse. We need to heal the pain of those abusers, and create an environment where abuse is not tolerated, before we can make space for more joyful sharing of creativity.
Changing the world
Ultimately, though, I write publicly - and seek out a career writing words in public media - to have an impact on the world. I have something I want to say.
I was speaking to a friend recently about the articles I write for newspapers, and I said that what I really hope for from my writing is to encourage people to open their minds. I’m not necessarily setting out to convince people of anything or to convert anyone to my opinion, I just want them to be willing to think about subjects from a different angle. I want to nudge people to question the status quo, to ask why things are a certain way, rather than just saying that this is the way they are. I want them to consider whether things could be different.
I want to share points of view that don’t often get heard, and draw attention to topics that don’t get much of the spotlight. I feel strongly that the stories that a society is told shapes that society, and for too long we’ve had a very narrow narrative shaping our world. When one narrative becomes dominant, it also shuts down any others that don’t align. It becomes unacceptable to deviate publicly from the accepted messaging. So I find myself more and more wanting to go against the established “truths” to make the point that no truth is objective, that other opinions are available. And sometimes that encourages others to say, “actually, I don’t agree either.” If enough of us speak our versions of the truth, we take away their power to tell us what the truth should be.
Connection
Maybe what brings all of this together is that writing in public allows me to connect to others. By sharing my words, I find others who feel a similar way, who are grappling with similar experiences. People contact me to say, “yes, this is how I feel too”, and sometimes we keep up a dialogue. When I shared the struggles of realising that mainstream education wasn’t a path that worked for either my daughter or myself, several people contacted me to talk about their own experiences with home education, and they’ve been cheerleading me through the process of taking my daughter out of school and finding a new path for my family.
Just having people say, “I like your writing” feels so powerful. Knowing that you’ve touched someone, inspired them, moved them, or just made them smile, is an incredible gift and makes you feel more connected to the human family.
Even the people who don’t talk to me, the ones who subscribe, who quietly leave a like, who make the time to absorb my words - it’s a silent and private act of communion. It’s an honour to be invited into someone’s mind, for my words to be chosen amongst all the content that’s out there to be consumed. It feels like stepping into a circle with my community. It feels like we’re gathering together.
Being seen and heard myself, and being given the chance to see and hear others, goes some way to closing those gaps that have opened up in our society. It reduces the sense of separation that we’re being increasingly forced into. When we come together to tell our stories, to hear each other’s words, we’re connecting with one another, and we’re continuing an ancient practice of bonding, nurturing and understanding that has existed for millennia. It brings us closer, not only to one another, but to our ancestors and our future descendants.
Time is a circle. The Earth is a circle. We are a circle.
I write to tie myself into that circle of humanity.
I’d love to hear your thoughts - why do you write in public?
Utterly relatable. I have to add one. My mind is full of all the things - so many of them! - and I need to spare my family from 3 page long Whatsapp messages or having to listen while I sort out what I think, or let out a set of opinions that nobody asked for. Waaaaaaay back, I started one of my rambles at a family dinner gathering and someone grinned, "Here we go with one of Caroline's little theories". Since then, I guess I've been hunting for publics who might actually enjoy "Caroline's little theories" haha. So writing publicly is a safety valve for my super-energetic brain and also for my patient kinsfolk. Let's NOT keep it in the family.
That was a lovely read while I'm on a train. I think for me it's also about processing things. And I have to admit that I wasnt people who bullied me and teachers who told me I was no good at things to see it. I know they won't, but maybe someone who has behaved badly to other people might read it and change their minds