Growing up, I always wrote in a journal. But it wasn’t until I re-read these journals recently that I realized how frequently the feelings I was setting down on those carefully protected pages were difficult ones. This isn’t to say that my young life was hard – it wasn’t, really – but when things did get challenging, I was often drawn to the page to make myself feel better.
That practice of taking an inside feeling that was threatening to burst me at the seams and letting it out in writing continues to this day. It doesn’t happen as often (teenagers have a LOT of bursting-at-the-seams feelings). But once in a while I still find myself pulled to the page by a need to turn grief, anger, disappointment, or heartbreak into, if not gold, then at least a tangible substance I can hold in my hand.
That writing I do in the heat of the moment is usually just for me. It’s fast and messy and focused on releasing an unwieldy emotion. Sometimes I also find it helpful to write about those same experiences weeks or months later, once I’ve cooled down and want to figure out why a particular response was so intense. Catharsis can happen at that later stage too, a rush of abundant feeling overtaking me as I relive a past moment that still carries an emotional charge. (And if that emotional charge feels overwhelming, I’ve often appreciated the wisdom in this article by Yolande House, which talks about strategies for self-care when writing about difficult memories.)
Whatever happens with my emotionally-fueled words—whether they go on to become an essay I share widely, or they are never seen by another soul—I am always grateful for the power of this free-of-charge and sometimes healing activity. I can take a pen. I can scribble something on the back of an envelope or the inside of a cereal box that I fished out of the recycling. I can set down messy, fierce, or struggling words, and then I can rip them up or burn them. Or I can hide them in a dark drawer, walk away, and go outside. Maybe later—sometimes even decades later—I might choose to revisit these words as a reader. This feels like another opportunity for a quieter form of catharsis. Perusing pages I wrote in the distant past can turn a hard story previously hemmed in by barbed wire into a more accessible one that sometimes inspires the release of a surprising amount of generosity and kindness toward the “characters” who lived it.
I teach two online CNF courses for University of Toronto’s School of Continuing Studies, and both have sessions starting soon: Intro to Creative Nonfiction (Sept 9-Nov 17, 2024), and Creative Nonfiction Level II (Sept 30-Dec 8, 2024).
Geist is accepting short CNF for their Notes and Dispatches section, or longer nonfiction features until Aug 26. More details here.
The Event Magazine Nonfiction Contest, for CNF of up to 5000 words, has an upcoming deadline of Oct 15. The $35 entry fee includes a one-year subscription. More info here.
Me, myself, and friends
Writing can feel like a solitary activity, so it’s important to remember that you are not doing this work alone. Many others are at their desks right now, writing their true stories. One of these people is this month’s highlighted writer, Sambriddhi Nepal. You can get to know Sambriddhi and her work via the answers she shared with me here:
Sambriddhi, what’s important to you about writing true stories?
What I find most exciting about writing true stories is finding connections and themes in the experience of being alive - from the big experiences, like immigrating and building a life in a new country, to small things, like sharing a meal with a friend you love, and reflecting on what that love has meant for you both. Writing my own stories allows me to be curious about myself and what is happening around me. That curiosity also extends to those around me, and it’s important to me to be as generous and compassionate as possible in my writing about others.
What’s important to you about reading true stories? Who are you reading right now?
You know when you go for a walk in the evening and you can see into people’s living rooms? Reading true stories feels like being invited to hear people’s thoughts or to listen in on conversations in their homes. I love learning about people’s experiences by holding their stories for the days or weeks it takes me to finish their book. It’s such an act of generosity that writers share their stories in that much depth and with so much thoughtfulness.
I have been enjoying listening to the audiobooks of memoirs, particularly when they are read by the authors themselves. I am currently listening to Ordinary Notes by Christina Sharpe, and I am making slow progress because I keep rewinding to re-listen to different sections because they are so beautifully written or moving.
I also recently finished listening toIn the Dream Houseby Carmen Maria Machado. I read the physical book when it first came out, but re-visiting her writing (and hearing her read it out loud) has given me such appreciation for the craft of creative non-fiction.
Anything you'd like to tell us about the piece you're going to share?
This was my first published piece, and I look back on publishing this very lovingly, not only because it was a milestone, but also because it represents a specific time, and where I was in my relationship with my home country. This piece is my attempt to bring my story closer to the stories of my estranged relatives. Estrangement may have sent us in diverging directions, but this piece is my attempt to contend with the fact that we are products of similar circumstances who just happened to take different steps in our lives.
I’ve since re-connected with my family, and I’m proud that my writing holds so much tenderness towards them. I hope one day they can read this and understand this version of me a little better, and maybe they’ll be curious about the version of me that I am today.
SAMBRIDDHI NEPAL is a Nepali settler living on Coast Salish Territories in Vancouver BC. She works at an environmental organization by day, and writes creative non-fiction and children’s books when everyone in her household has gone to bed. Her writing has been selected as a winner by the Humainologie Short Story Festival, and appears in the second season of the Living Hyphen Podcast. She was a mentee in the Writers’ Union of Canada’s BIPOC Writers Connect mentorship program.
Interested in being featured in a future issue?Contact me with links to online creative nonfiction work to be considered.
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Thanks for providing such a thought provoking forum . Enjoyed each of the articles and the interview.
A God or Two Could Help shows that one’s beliefs can be either unifying or divisive and the torment that can occur when opposing views happen within a family.
Thanks for providing such a thought provoking forum . Enjoyed each of the articles and the interview.
A God or Two Could Help shows that one’s beliefs can be either unifying or divisive and the torment that can occur when opposing views happen within a family.