Writing, for many, is more than just a task; it’s a deeply personal process of self-discovery and connection. Yet, this process can be profoundly disrupted when pain, whether physical or emotional, enters the equation. In academia, where demands are high and deadlines are constant, there’s seldom a convenient moment to experience discomfort. Pain, in its disruptive nature, clashes with the structured, time-sensitive world of academic writing. While the sentiment “I feel your pain” might offer fleeting comfort, it often falls short of providing real solutions. This article explores the inherent tension between the chaotic nature of pain and the need for control in the writing process. How can writers navigate pain, and what role does community play in fostering an environment of support and understanding when writing becomes intertwined with discomfort? Drawing from experiences in a writing center, this exploration delves into creating an ethos of empathy and genuine care—or, to use another word that encapsulates its essence, compassion—when writing and pain collide.
Rethinking Productivity: From Time Constraints to Self-Confidence
In the winter of 2016, the author’s relationship with writing time underwent a dramatic shift. A diagnosis of chronic pain transformed writing from a freely chosen activity into one dictated by the unpredictable nature of pain. The structured writing time, once personal and predictable, became subject to joint pain, the need for pain relief, and the effectiveness of treatments. Some days were relatively manageable, while others made even reading a challenge, let alone the act of writing itself. Productivity became reduced to composing brief emails, assurances to professors and students that deadlines would be met, masking the reality of living in “crip time.”
Disability studies scholar Alison Kafer’s concept of “crip time” challenges conventional notions of time and productivity. It acknowledges that the standard pace of life and work is often based on able-bodied experiences. Crip time, in contrast, “requires reimagining our notions of what can and should happen in time,” recognizing that time perception and task completion are deeply influenced by individual bodies and minds (Kafer, 2013). The expectation that a blog post should take 2-3 hours to write, for instance, becomes unrealistic when pain stretches those hours into many more, blurring the lines between productive work and simply coping with physical discomfort. The question shifts from “Did it take too long?” to a more fundamental reevaluation of how productivity is measured.
Instead of adhering to rigid time-based metrics, a “crip ethos” suggests evaluating writing productivity through the lens of self-confidence. The author’s experience in a writing center highlighted this shift. Engaging with students as both a peer and a tutor revealed how the conversational nature of writing center sessions prompts a re-evaluation of what constitutes “writing” and how productivity is often misjudged by metrics like time and page count. The common trap of equating success with reaching a specific page number, for example, is challenged by tutors who offer constructive feedback throughout the writing process. This approach encourages students, including the author, to reflect on their writing process, shifting focus away from obstacles and towards a broader understanding of writing as more than just output.
Writing, in this expanded view, encompasses brainstorming, outlining, and mentally formulating ideas – all steps that contribute to the final product. Even brief writing center sessions, filled with idea generation and planning, demonstrated the multifaceted nature of the writing process. When pain subsided and moments of physical writing time emerged, even an hour became remarkably productive. More importantly, on days when physical writing was impossible, the guilt of “unproductivity” diminished, replaced by a newfound confidence in the ongoing, multifaceted nature of writing. Time transformed from a rigid constraint into a series of energy bursts, each offering opportunities for different stages of the writing process: brainstorming, discussion, outlining, or even recording thoughts.
Embracing “Good Enough”: Prioritizing Well-being Over Perfection
Pain, whether physical or psychological, can create a sense of defeat, undermining confidence in one’s ability to achieve desired outcomes. It can challenge the pursuit of excellence in writing, making it crucial to reconsider priorities. The writing center’s emphasis on revision as an ongoing process offers a crucial reminder: well-being should take precedence over the relentless pursuit of perfect prose. Pain can disrupt the present, but it doesn’t have to dictate the future of one’s writing aspirations.
Many students, like the author, initially seek writing center support with the goal of producing exceptional, grade-A work, often with future academic ambitions in mind. However, the relentless pursuit of perfection can be detrimental, especially when navigating pain. One student offered a valuable lesson: adopting a “good enough, for now” mindset. This student, working on a complex biochemical engineering project intended for their doctoral dissertation, articulated a manageable goal for a writing center session: making the first three pages “good enough” to allow for a break before tackling the next section. This approach prioritized present well-being over future, potentially overwhelming, goals. Pain can indeed accelerate thoughts towards completion, bypassing the necessary steps and self-compassion required for a sustainable writing process.
This student’s self-trust, their belief in their ability to achieve future success while acknowledging present limitations, was a powerful counterpoint to the author’s tendency to measure success solely by output. “Good enough, for now” became a valuable antidote to pain’s ability to erode self-belief. Writing, understood as both a process and an identity, allows for pauses and breaks without signifying failure. “Good enough” becomes a temporary state, not a final destination, in the ongoing journey of writer development. In the demanding environment of a writing center, where stress and self-doubt are common, this ethos of self-compassion and recognizing small victories, regardless of pain levels, becomes essential.
The Connectivity of Compassion: Writing and Community
While writing is often presented as a solitary act, its potential as a tool for managing pain, both psychological and physical, is amplified within a supportive community. Historically, writers have utilized creative expression to process emotional turmoil, as seen in the works of 18th-century Romantic poets. However, applying the idea of “healing” to academic or professional writing tasks, such as application essays or lab reports, can romanticize the process and overlook the practical needs of writers. A more realistic approach, and the core of a writing center’s mission, is to integrate a student’s goals and attitudes into a personalized approach to their writer identity. As one student articulated, the writing center is “for me, not my professor,” highlighting the need for a supportive space focused on individual needs and anxieties.
Instead of solely focusing on technical aspects of writing, such as grammar or organization, writing centers can foster strategies to build writer confidence and address anxieties. This might involve low-stakes pre-writing exercises designed to alleviate nervousness and build momentum. While anxieties might not vanish entirely, they become acknowledged and integrated into the writing process, recognizing the bodymind as a crucial part of the writer’s identity. The goal isn’t to magically “heal” through writing, but to learn to work with bodymind differences and discomforts, rather than ignoring them.
The true power of writing centers lies in their ability to build community. While pain, as Elaine Scarry (1987) argues, can be profoundly isolating, creating a sense of separation, the vulnerability inherent in sharing one’s struggles in a writing center setting fosters connection and compassion. It underscores the reality that care is a collaborative process; everyone needs support at some point. Admitting this need, often the most challenging step, is facilitated by the trust and intimacy cultivated within the tutor-student relationship. Students share vulnerabilities and insecurities with tutors, often strangers initially, trusting them to respond with empathy and guidance. This reciprocal learning environment benefits both students and tutors, creating a powerful network of mutual support.
Pain may indeed create a sense of isolation, but connection and healing begin when individuals trust others and seek support. The initial reluctance to ask for help, as exemplified by the author’s emails masking their struggles, can be a barrier to receiving necessary care. Acknowledging vulnerability and seeking support are not signs of weakness but rather acts of strength. Pain, in its various forms, is an inevitable part of life. Yet, as writing centers demonstrate, individuals can persist and create, finding strength in community and compassion. The mission of a writing center is to empower this persistence, making creation possible even amidst challenges, and fostering a culture of empathy and support for every writer’s journey.
Work Cited
Kafer, Alison. Feminist, Queer, Crip. Indiana University Press, 2013.
Price, Margaret. “The Bodymind Problem and the Possibilities of Pain.” Hypatia 30.1 (2015): 268-284.
Scarry, Elaine. The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World. Oxford University Press, USA, 1987.
Notes
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Following feminist disability scholar Margaret Price, the term “bodymind” is used to recognize the interconnectedness of physical and mental experiences of pain, challenging the Cartesian dualism of mind and body (Price, 2015).
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The term “crip” is employed as a reclaimed term within Feminist Disability Studies and disability activism, used to empower and challenge negative connotations associated with disability.
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All images are used under public domain and Creative Commons licenses. Image credits are listed in the original article.
