Last week I visited my brother, an uber-talented artist, in New York. A tremendous highlight was a decadent curry dinner, made by Mom and shared with a group of fellow artists – painters, writers, a poet, a sculptor, a weaver… Although we varied by medium, we had much in common — including the fact that we express ourselves through art.

“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it.” ― Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

I think Atwood’s right. If we judge what we write too much, it loses any hope for authenticity — whether we write nonfiction or fiction.

I imagine that many of us discover truths about life, our experiences and our emotions through our writing. (In other words write first, understand yourself later. ;))

This song is a prime example. I wrote it, not realizing until the last line that it depicted me:

Thankfully, I’m no longer in that place. And I sincerely believe that composing the song helped me out of it.

What about you? Do you discover much about yourself in your stories? Or do you cope with emotions, stress or conflicts by writing through them?