Silent Writing

One of my writing teachers, Lauren Sapala, has a concept called silent writing. This is almost as simple as it sounds. Gather a group of people together and write together. Silently.

That last part is key.

I don’t mean you can’t greet your fellow writers or ask about their day. You can stay after and socialize, and nobody would blink if you asked someone to pass the what-have-you in the middle of the session. The silent part of silent writing comes from the fact that no one is expected to read their work aloud at the end of the writing session.

If you’re a writer like me, you not only take a long time to write words, but they also need time to settle. My Twin is my number one cheerleader (and constant demander of progress) for the Fay Tale series. Yet, I haven’t given her any book to chapters to read even though there are 30 or so in decent enough shape to read. This isn’t because I don’t trust her to be kind or understanding about the state of a rough draft. I don’t hand them over because I can’t. Because I need more time. I have to let the words settle into the digital page and to grow comfortable with their existence outside of my head. I also have to grow accustomed with my imperfection. It’s one thing to know that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s quite another to risk censure and exposure when I did the best I could with the resources available.

But silent writing? Best of all worlds.

You get the support of other human beings (whether in person or digital) who are also groaning over characters or words they can’t remember but definitely should go in their next sentence... The sense of community coupled with knowing I won’t need to produce something magnificent just so I can read it to others is incredibly freeing. It also gives me a touch-stone knowing other people will be there and will miss me if I’m not present. What can I say? INFs are suckers for the human element.

Lauren hosts a monthly, online silent writing group which I’ve been a part of on and off since she started it a year or so ago. The group meets multiple times a week at different times so everyone in different time zones can have at least one decent spot. However, the opening time to join each month is about 4 days long, and I missed this March’s sign-up. Into my life strolls Al.

Al and I first met about two months ago when I showed up at my local library’s writer workshop. I was really hoping for a space that did silent writing (forgetting that this is not a common thing) as well as get to know some local authors in person. Basically, I wanted to establish a writing community for myself. Yay!

Unfortunately, the group is in a stage of flux as the librarian in charge of our group switched locations, and the library is now having to hire someone else to fill the position. This is, of course, fine. Life always manages to happen when you’re trying to get stuff done. But until the new person arrives, the interim leader mostly leads us through writing prompts and we—you guessed it—read what we’ve written aloud.

To be fair everyone has been very kind about listening each other and very encouraging. To be less fair, everyone is an amazing writer, and it’s super intimidating. I’m not saying these groups don’t have their place. I’m slowly getting to know everyone and do feel like I’m building a community. It’s also super cool to celebrate the ingenuity of humans and how fucking amazing we are at writing stories. One prompt can churn out so many different pieces of writing. Each one incredibly unique to their writer. And yet...to be a healthy writer I need silent writing sessions.

What’s a poor INFP to do?

Complain in her library writing group, apparently. As we went around the group stating what we hoped to get out of our time together, I mentioned I’d really like to do some silent writing. Then I had to explain exactly what silent writing was. After the session ended, Al came up to me and gave me her number. I’d really like to try out this silent writing session if you want a buddy.

Of course, since this is exactly what I needed, I resisted.

“I don’t know this person. What if she’s annoying? What if she finds me annoying? What if we don’t vibe after the first session and then I have to say no to a second one?!”

Thankfully, I’ve learned that you don’t know the answers to these fear-based questions until you actually try and do the thing. So I texted her. We set a time and showed up to write together.

Fiends, it was amazing.

We clicked so well together. She even agrees I’m hilarious! I am so, so glad I went out on that introverted limb and contacted her. Now we meet pretty much every Monday for an hour or so of writing. Sometimes I’ll even stay longer if I’m in the writing groove. I also write more often during the week simply because I’ve already sat down and written once already.

But CJ, some of you may ask, aren’t you the one that said forcing yourself to write actually kills off your creativity and ability to put words on a page?

First off, how dare you repeat to me my exact words I’ve written in a public setting. Secondly, the difference lies in what’s being forced. I don’t force myself to write. I force myself to show up. Until now I didn’t realize there was a difference between the two.

There have been sessions that I’m incredibly distracted. I was either late showing up or I had a bad day or there was an icky human interaction before I got to my safety zone next to Al. There are innumerable reasons to keep me from showing up. But once I’m there, I find I usually have the need (and the energy) to write.

But sometimes I don’t get much of a reward for showing up and that’s okay too, if frustrating. A recent session had me stopping every 10 minutes to check my phone as a self-soothing action. After being horrified the first time it happened—I was here to write, damn it!—I started being kind with myself. So what if I was feeling super anxious and looking for a distraction? That’s okay. I’ll just read over a chapter of webtoon then try again. I can go ahead and answer that text from Kohai then look back at the page and see if there’s anything else that came to me.

As the session came to an end, I was frustrated I didn’t get as much done as I’d wanted to. But looking back now, I can be proud at how gentle I was with myself and pleased that I still showed up and tried. Take that guilt-based industrial capitalism!

 If you are looking for an online group of writers to spend some silent writing time with, look no further than Lauren’s group! You can sign up for her newsletter here, and each month she’ll send out an email opening up the group. It’s several sessions a week for one month for a total of $50. Don’t want to spend money? Start your own group like I did! Many libraries have writing groups, if you’re not sure where to start. Show up and see who else might like to join you!

Until then, happy writing!