The Power of Writing

"The pen is mightier than the sword" - Edward Bulwer-Lytton

When recently presenting an online workshop to a group of writers, I began, as I usually do with introductions.

Firstly, I find this calms my nerves – I’ve never been comfortable speaking in public. Secondly, it gives me a sense of who my audience is and what they might want to get out of the session.

On this occasion, I found myself sitting in a delightful smorgasbord of a group, where I felt at ease. So, I took a risk and went beyond my usual; “I’m Jan, I’m a psychotherapist.”

I say ‘risk’ because as I spoke, my mind wandered to wondering: What would they think of me? Would I be accepted for my differences? What will it be like when/ if we find some common ground? What if we don’t? Would this then become a competitive arena for us?

I have only recently come across the word intersectionality: I know what you are thinking: late to the party as usual. I’m sure you have long been aware of the concept.

In fact, the term has been around since 1989 when legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw used it to describe the ways in which different forms of discrimination, such as racism and sexism, intersect and impact on individuals.

My unique experience of my own intersections informs my writing – how could it not, this is who I am? However, in the presence of others - in plain sight, I often sense an uneasiness about my identities.

I wonder now, as I write this, if this is why I chose to use a pen name for my work.

Being a neuro-divergent psychotherapist, a mother, a (now) single woman of a certain age and infinite other intersects, inevitably seeps into the fabric of my characters and the themes of my stories.

Rarely a conscious act, I am often surprised when a character appears on the page exhibiting traits such as a tough spirit or a subtle vulnerability.

For example, Elizabeth, the main character in my latest novel; ‘The Last Text’, was not only of a similar age and occupation to me she revealed a resilience accredited to a life that had been touched by loss and an anger that inwardly raged at injustice.

Hidden within words, whether in a memoir, a novel, a short story or a social media post are complex clues to the societal inequalities we face as individuals.

In my writing, I find myself drawn to exploring the internal landscapes of individuals as they navigate complex social structures, much as I do in my therapeutic practice.

I believe from showing the unique way a character negotiates a seemingly unjust dismissal at work or has faced a lifetime of relentless judgement and rejection in relationships, lends authenticity to the stories.

This is where the profound power of writing truly unfurls itself, raising awareness of the lived experience of previously covert discrimination.

For me, writing can be a conversation, a voice, be it a gentle self-disclosure, or even a loud protest, contained within the intimate relationship of the reader and the page.

Drawing in and resonating with the reader provides a platform for countless unspoken experiences that might otherwise remain unheard.

The complex intertwining threads of identity can be laid bare and examined with compassion.

It’s a privilege and a responsibility to make that space available for new voices to emerge. Stories are powerful in offering an insight into fresh perspectives which prompt reflection, empathy and understanding and perhaps, ultimately, spark a quiet, internal shift in perception of broader societal patterns.