By Chris Maxwell
I plan my schedules in advance. How much time do I have to write? What do I hope to finish today? What references are nearby? Are any interruptions expected?
But surprises often visit.
One surprise recently visited as my fingers hit the keyboard.
While writing a story for my latest book, I worked hard to plot my agenda. Writing time. Word count. Mood. Emphasis. Scenes. Senses. Verbs of action. Words inviting. But I forgot one thing. I did not know I needed tissues. I didn’t expect tears to stop me in the middle of paragraph two.
The story hit deep. Thinking thoughts and typing words and providing stories revealed more than information. It was not a news report. It was not a calm clip of a simple event. It was not a stat sheet of data.
I realized writing was part of my grieving process. The story exposed my own hurt. A narrative of a friend’s suicide needed to do that. For readers. And for me, the writer.
While writing, I remembered the urgent phone call to please hurry to their house. While writing, I remembered planning the funeral service. While writing, I remembered my own hurt, the family’s hurt, and the friend’s life of deep hurt which ended with her suicide on their back porch on a Wednesday night.
No, not every personal journal entry should be revealed to the public. No, not all grief reflections should be submitted as potential articles. But emotions and questions should be included in our stories. Readers relate to laughter and to tears.
Here are a few suggestions on writing with tears.
Be aware of the reality of your own emotions.
Without a mindfulness of inner hurt, articles might be flavored with bitterness. Be aware of your own grief. Notice what emotions are influencing the temperament of your words. Awareness of your mood allows you to see what fits, or doesn’t fit, in your story.
Do not rob stories of reality.
Many writers show very little emotions in their writing. But they listen to hit songs. Watch popular movies. Read famous novels. Dive into intriguing stories. What do they have in common? No matter the genre, feelings are included. So, do not rob your stories of emotions. They are part of reality.
Hurt and hope both have places in your writing.
When including feelings of hurt and hope, be sure to put them in the right places. Emotions can be in your story, but do not toss anger toward the reader. Refuse to let bitterness craft your sentences. Let hurt and hope sit in their proper seats in your stories. Do not let them rule the room.
Healing can occur as you write.
Crying is good for you. When shedding tears while writing stories, welcome the tissues as medicine. The therapy of releasing inner hurts properly can become a part of your writing adventure. Yes, design stories for readers. But do that while also remembering your own benefits of healing. Here are four articles that demonstrate the benefits of crying:
- “Is crying good for you?” by Leo Newhouse, LICSW (Harvard Health Blog)
- “14 Benefits of Crying When You Need to Just Let It All Out, According to Experts” by Korin Miller (Women’s Health)
- “4 Good Reasons to Cry: Had a rough week — or year? Why psychologists say giving in to tears can bring mental health benefits” by Barbara Sadick (AARP Healthy Living)
- “8 Surprising Benefits of Crying” by Eric Patterson, LPC (Good RX Health)
Know what to include and what to keep for yourself.
Writing with tears might be a reminder of trashing those first drafts. While an opening illustration might feel vital, it probably isn’t. That story might be just for you to think, to feel, to write, to release, and then to delete. When made public, it must be for the readers. If the story is only for you, keep it to yourself.
While writing the story I mentioned at the beginning of this article, I benefited from the crying. The family benefited also—through our interviews, my questions, their willingness to process the answers. My editors loved the story for the opening chapter of my next book. My publisher was pleased. But one member of the family did not feel comfortable with the story being included. Because of that, it was removed from the final draft. We wanted all the family to give their okay before the story was included.
On the larger pages of life, it was included. My own crying while I wrote it. The family’s conversations about it with me and with each other. Though not included in chapter one of book twelve, the story welcomed tears to bring healing to each of us. And removing the story reminded us of the deeper therapy in writing—whether included in articles and blogs and books, or just held near the tissues while talking with a friend.
What about you? Think about stories you have written which brought inner healing to your own life. Think about ways you’ve adapted the stories for readers to experience their own therapy. Remember pain is a part of life; it must be a part of your stories. You and your readers can benefit from tears stopping everything in the middle of paragraph two.
Chris Maxwell is the Campus Pastor and Director of Spiritual Life at Emmanuel College in Franklin Springs, Georgia. He freelances for EPA publications and is the author of 12 books. His latest, Things We’ve Handed Down: Twelve Letters I Leave for You, was released October 1. Read his blog at chrismaxwell.me.
This article was first posted on the Christian Freelance Writers Network blog.
Posted Dec. 3, 2024
