VideosVideos

A Writing Exercise to Help You Meet Yourself

Share Link

The School of Life

3 mins 15 secs

Ages 14 - 18

Self-DiscoveryEmotionsAnxiety
A Writing Exercise to Help You Meet Yourself

This video introduces the concept of automatic writing as a tool for self-discovery. It encourages viewers to write freely without self-censorship to uncover genuine emotions and thoughts, potentially revealing unexpected feelings and reducing anxiety and depression.

Usually, when we set out to write, sounding coherent and polished are our central priorities. We may think hard before setting anything down, keep an eye on spelling, and go back to correct words that feel not entirely right, all in the hope of eventually reaching a point where what we have articulated seems to accurately reflect what we truly think. But there is another philosophy of writing at large, one with a very different thesis as to what good writing might be like, while also believing that the ultimate ambition of writing should be the expression of our genuine thoughts. This technique proposes that our best chances of reaching such thoughts lie in making every effort not to think too much, not to agonize about every word, not to go back and correct anything, and instead just to write down everything that comes into our minds the very moment it does so, without any interest in seeming logical, elegant, clever, or even very sane. This approach, known as automatic writing, asks us to begin by picking an important emotional topic, for example, "my mother," "my father," "my partner," or "what I really want," and then writing as fast as we possibly can for two minutes straight without a single pause, which can feel like a very exhausting and peculiar requirement indeed. When we stand back and read what has tumbled out of us, our feelings about our parents, partners, or desires may emerge as really very different from what we had presumed. We might find that we hate where we had expected love, or love where we had imagined disdain. We might discover layers of longing, envy, rage, or sadness that we had kept at bay day to day in the name of appearing that most stultifying and dangerous of things: normal. The value of the exercise lies precisely in the extent to which our automatic writing introduces us to feelings that are at odds with those we ordinarily dare to entertain. Much of what we are is damned up inside us by scruples, by a fear of hurting others, by an embarrassment as to what we want when it departs from the expected path. Yet this neglect of our true selves is also what powers our anxiety, irritability, insomnia, and depression—all of these species of revenge for the real thoughts we have been so careful not to allow into our conscious minds. Automatic writing will not make us into great writers, but it will do something far more useful still. It will liberate us from some of the insincerities that are making us more troubled and restless than we should be. Our chaotic, intense two-minute essays will help us to meet the person we have been but were too scared to be.