The Magical Dynamics Behind My Writing
By: Natasha Aidoo
I never thought I was capable of expressing myself more effectively through writing than spoken word.
Strangely, I couldn’t imagine myself finding peace and joy in it. I believed that I’d never find the same effortlessness in writing that I could through speaking. This was before I wrote my first piece of flash fiction in 2016. My mental health required me to type my anxiety and uneasiness onto a blank page. It allowed me to distance myself from the overwhelming situation, to feel better by concentrating on the literary character that spontaneously appeared in my mind.
I remember it clearly, feeling restless and lonely, with desperation looming. I was on my bed in Ineu (Romania), during my EVS*, and it seemed like an ordinary evening. I came to find that it wasn’t. Negative emotions and thoughts had taken hold of me and I wasn’t able to let them go. The only idea I could come up with was to write about it. And so, I did. In a feverish and compulsive way. I felt confused, yet proud. I didn't understand how I could transform an uncomfortable moment into a fictional yet deeply personal piece.
The words were in charge. I was not.
That moment changed my perspective on life, deepened my self-knowledge, expanded my tools to deal with depression and anxiety, and opened the doors of my creative writing. I realized I had always been writing down what my eyes, mind, and heart lived, but I didn’t acknowledge it. Deciding to devote time and energy to the writing process was next, along with structuring a process for bringing my ideas to fruition. The spontaneity of my ideas had to be accompanied by discipline and attention in the construction of a poem or story.
I jump from poetry to prose, from fictional stories to personal essays to analytical pieces. It’s an enthusiastic and ever surprising journey and process of discovery. It feels like one of cosmic and introspective exploration. The diversity of what I write mirrors how nuanced my experience of the world is. Each outlet serves a different purpose. I love when I can’t define nor categorize something I’ve written. When layers intertwine in inextricable ways. Experimentation at its best. The most important thing is that I’m satisfied with what I read.
There are aspects of my writing process that intrigue me. The first one is a sort of deep connection with my inner self. Sometimes when I write, I’m not completely aware or conscious of what the result will be. I feel like an instrument used by my mind and its imagination. As if I wasn’t in control. My fingers type and I, like the reader, wonder what will follow. I might have a glimpse of the structure or the main concept, but the content is unknown. The same phenomenon happens when reading words I’ve written in the past. As I read them back now, I don’t recognize them as mine completely. I marvel at how Time and Space transform and condition us, allowing us to grow into new beings day by day. My past works are literary snapshots of my existence.
I may not recall certain events, feelings, and thoughts but I’m glad my words have captured them for me. I'm amazed by the way I observe and dissect reality, by my attempts to decipher myself and the environment surrounding me through what I write. It feels somehow foreign, as if someone else typed those texts. It's an intricate combination of seeing myself through the eyes of my past self and of constant recognition. What characterizes me at the core is untouched, but my perspectives float fleetingly.
This also involves an act of “detachment.” The topics I hold dear and want to talk about put me in a vulnerable position. In order to be honest with myself and to speak my truth, as a reader and author, I must create a distance between who I am and the part of me that writes. Painful, political, and personal topics can be dealt with by allowing that distance. The blank page becomes my safe space. I can be me without feeling judged or pressured. What might limit me is not being ready to face certain topics. What appears as an interesting idea can be more challenging than expected. Taking a step back to have a better view makes it easier to explore sensitive territories and to not get overwhelmed, while acknowledging my need to give myself time.
Then, there is identification. The changes we go through as humans are both invisible and immense. We keep evolving and developing. Because of this, when I can still empathise with my old self, I’m pleasantly surprised that I can “see” myself in what I write.
My work represents a reflection of who I’ve been. The combination of chronological spaces leaves me speechless and in awe. There are experiences and concepts that transcend Time and Space. I like to think of literature as time travel through words. I find it magical.
Writing provides me the possibility to dive into myself. I’m able to notice elements of my personality I didn’t earlier, to hold on to aspects I might have left behind, and to cherish whatever makes me happy. The act of writing is powerful. It’s art and therapy. Creating worlds and characters, interpreting life through words is a form of art. My ability to analyse and to fight by writing when dealing with mental health issues is therapeutic. It’s relieving and through it, I’m able to find a child-like sense of being carefree. I can enjoy imagination and fantasy.
I think of the personal weight and achievement behind my writing. Each time I finish a work, I feel at peace with the universe. I affirm my existence through what I write. I question reality and myself, while reflecting on my beliefs and views. It’s an existential need. I don’t look for answers but rather for a place to explore my question marks. It has become automatic and effortless. Even though challenges arise, like facing self-doubts about my work, overcoming periods of "writer's block," or pushing myself to dig deeper.
Writing allows me to grow.
To express who I am.
To experience magic.
*EVS: European Voluntary Service