#NoFilter

“It is surprising what we may find within ourselves and about ourselves through the mere act of uninhibited writing. Not until we begin to write, often, do we know what we are going to say. Once started, however, once over those first strange inhibitions that impede the flow of thought, we are likely to find that we know more than we thought we did; that we do have an idea, after all; that words do come to mind, in spite of our fears that they would not. And sometimes to our utter amazement thoughts come to us in pleasing form-like Minerva, full-born on the crest of a wave.”

Yes, writers, sometimes the story really does write itself even when we think we have nothing to say. Perhaps especially when we think we have nothing to say.

This passage from Luella B. Cook’s “Writing as Self-Revelation” caught my eye. It just about perfectly explains the mystery of the writing process, which is exactly why I love it so much.

Cook’s statement that “once over those strange inhibitions that impede the flow of thought” we realize that we actually do have something to say and a way to say it describes that hurtle so many of us struggle with— to just start.

Particularly in academia, we tend to overthink our writing, typing and deleting every other word for fear of technical errors or incoherently expressed thoughts that will tank our grades. I don’t know about you, but I already start to feel this anxiety just by seeing a future essay assignment on the syllabus. This usually ends with my laptop open at 2 a.m. the night before the paper is due, simply because I could not get myself to just start.

That’s why the art of “uninhibited writing,” as Cook phrases it, is so important for all of us to practice. Rethinking each sentence will get us nowhere, and it has the harmful possibility of disrupting potentially valuable ideas that get crumpled up and tossed in the recycling bin by our incessant filters.

Unfortunately, in the age of social media and digital communication, our world seems to value the spoken word over the written one, the extrovert over the introvert, the public over the private.

But like Cook says, public communication (aka speaking) may not always be beneficial to prioritize over private communication (aka writing). How can you tell people what you think if you can’t even explain it to yourself? How can you know what you want to say before truly thinking about it? How can you use your voice when you haven’t found it yet?

This is exactly what writing does for us: It gives us our voice. In Cook’s words, it is an act of self-revelation.

Speaking, on the other hand, as Cook points out, is always a performance. It is also a competition. We speak with an audience before us, even if that audience is just one person. But that is enough for the unconscious editor in all of us to stand at attention, filtering out the words and ideas we believe cannot fall upon these particular ears. We try to beat our listeners, who probably aren’t actually listening to us, by talking over them, interrupting them, or, if some politeness is valued, waiting for them to stop talking so we can say our bit. Whether we intend to or not, we are acting and competing when we speak. How do you expect to know who you are if you never allow yourself to remove the mask and boxing gloves every once in a while?

Unlike speaking, writing is a form of private communication. It is only between you, the pen, and the paper. No one else must read it if you so wish. When we write, “there are fewer pressures to determine what we shall say or how we shall say it.” The mind roams free.

This is why, especially in the world of academia as mentioned earlier, there needs to be a balance between speaking and writing. In the article, Cook calls for such a balance to be achieved between group work and individual work, guidance and individual responsibility, as well as objective and subjective evaluation of a student’s work. Extroverts may be the life of the party and know how to make everyone have a good time, but there is something to be said for the privacy of the introvert and the self-reflection they can practice that will give them a stronger sense of self and thereby an unmatched confidence when using the voice they have found.

The mind is a funny thing. Often, it likes to hide things from us. Perhaps these are scary things or uncomfortable things or confusing things, but all of these can give us a voice. I urge you to treat your pen as a therapist— express to it your unfiltered thoughts and see where it takes you.

You might even find yourself at the end of the page...

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