You are viewing your 1 free article this month. Login to read more articles.
Drawing on personal experience can be a powerful tool for writing, but we must set boundaries.
We can’t help but let our personal experiences shape our writing and our stories, whether consciously or not. And that’s not a bad thing.
I often joke that, without trauma, I wouldn’t have anything to write about. I’ve also said that writing is cheaper than therapy—and, as someone who has had a lot of therapy, I can confirm that I was not wrong. But when it comes to mining trauma for fiction, is it a case of making the most of our difficult experiences, or are we at risk of re-traumatisation?
My latest novel, One Bad Apple, marks a change in the direction of my writing, but it wasn’t intentional. So, what compelled me to write something on the cosier side of the crime thriller spectrum, with more humour and fewer dead bodies? The answer is that I’m tired of using my trauma for entertainment or therapy.
My debut, Sticks and Stones, was about domestic abuse, written when I was full of rage at what I’d experienced and witnessed; and What His Wife Knew was my way of making sense of the suicide of a wonderful friend. Joan Didion said it best when she wrote: "I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking." She’s not the only one.
Though addressing traumatic experiences through writing can be courageous and cathartic, we rarely leave the words behind on the page. We relive them through the editing process, publication and events to promote the book. Readers tell us how the book spoke to them, sharing their traumas with us. With my debut, people came up to me after events to tell me about the abuse they’d suffered at the hands of their partners. I felt honoured that they would share their story with me and glad that the book resonated with them, but it was like picking at a scab.
And it didn’t stop there. Someone tried to sue me, believing that a character in Sticks and Stones was based on them. I had to prove point-by-point why they were mistaken—which was re-traumatising, to say the least. It’s a minefield, and I wasn’t in a place where I could keep a safe emotional distance from the story. I must say that the publishers, Harvill Secker, were amazingly supportive. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had their full backing. When it came to writing book two, I was so fearful of upsetting people that I found it excruciating to write. I was constantly second-guessing myself and certainly didn’t produce my best work.
With my debut, people came up to me after events to tell me about the abuse they’d suffered at the hands of their partners
What I didn’t consider was the importance of self-care and boundaries when exploring personal trauma in writing. Writing is more potent when we connect deeply with our subject matter, but that doesn’t mean we need to leave ourselves exposed. No shade on publishers here—we’re all doing what we can to promote our books—but those personal pieces we write for magazines and papers to promote our books… Is there any evidence this leads to enough sales to make it worth making ourselves vulnerable? I know this can be liberating for some people, but that wasn’t the case for me.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t write about the trauma we’ve experienced—far from it. It has excellent potential for inspiration, healing and making sense of those things that keep us awake at night. It also allows us to rewrite our past and ensure the bad guys get their comeuppance.
Though I’m reluctant to go to those dark places anymore, that’s not to say that One Bad Apple isn’t a personal story. It was partly inspired by my son being bullied at school and morphed into a book about how we can get pushed around and bullied no matter what age we are. I used my experience as a helicopter parent, a competitive parent, but it hasn’t left me feeling vulnerable or exposed.
My next book contains minimal personal experience; just a lot of research, imagination, and empathy. It was an absolute joy to write. I’m not saying I’ve cracked the code, but I’ve not enjoyed writing this much in a long time. It’s what I need for now.
While drawing from personal trauma and experiences can be a powerful tool for writing, we must be aware of our boundaries. Writing can inspire, heal and provide a sense of closure, but it is equally important to know when to step back and protect our emotional well-being. Finding a balance between personal connection and emotional safety can lead to more fulfilling and enjoyable writing experiences. Sometimes, we forget that writing is meant to be a pleasurable experience, not a traumatic one.
One Bad Apple by Jo Jakeman is published on 19th September (Constable, £20)