The Practice and Potential of Expressive Writing Groups
by
Shelley Elizabeth Lepp
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Masters of Arts
OISE, Adult Education & Community Development University of Toronto
© Copyright by Shelley Lepp 2019
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The Practice and Potential of Expressive Writing Groups
Shelley Elizabeth Lepp
Masters of Arts
OISE, Adult Education & Community Development University of Toronto
2019
Abstract
My research examines the potential of expressive writing groups in non-clinical settings for
individuals navigating trauma, transition and life challenges. Writing as a tool for supporting
mental health is not a new concept, however, there is renewed interest given the: track record
of success; potential as a low-cost treatment; and flexibility for supporting isolated segments
of the population. My mixed-methods qualitative research is part self-study narrative inquiry,
probing my experience with expressive writing, and part case study analysis looking at the
work of an organization offering volunteer facilitated expressive writing workshops in
partnership with social service and community organizations. I analyze the data to advance
knowledge in regards to how an expressive writing group functions, the role of the facilitator
and how success is measured for the individual. This study produces valuable insight into
models of expressive writing groups and their potential for healing and inspiring hope.
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Acknowledgments
I wish to acknowledge the support of my Supervisor, Professor Shahrzad Mojab. Under her
guidance, I have felt both challenged and supported to take risks in my research and writing. I
am immensely grateful for the time and energy she has invested in me and my work.
Thank you to all the professors who have influenced me during my time at OISE. In particular,
I am grateful to Professor Kiran Mirchandani for the community she built and the clarity she
provided in my early days of graduate school. The influence of Professor Mary Beattie is, I
hope, evident in my work. Her commitment to passion based research greatly inspired me.
The late Jack Quarter gifted me his gentle mentorship as my Graduate Assistantship
supervisor and provided me with the most wonderful team of colleagues. Andrea Chan and
Annie Luk have become not only peer mentors but friends.
My academic journey would not have been as rich without the people I have met along the
way. Through coursework, workshops and casual hallway encounters – I have been blessed at
every turn. Most notably, my Wednesday and Friday writing groups - thank you for sitting
silently beside me each week while I searched for words.
To my tribe of friends and family who supported me with childcare, car pools, and cheerleading
– you made this possible.
To my children, who still don’t understand why anyone would voluntarily go back to school -
thank you for waiting up for me after night class, accepting a frazzled mother, and letting me
join you at the homework table. I hope one day you will understand what this journey has
meant to me.
To my future husband, Sam – I chase dreams because you show me how. Your endless belief
in me is contagious and you make everything feel possible. A million thank you’s.
This research was generously supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research
Council of Canada.
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“Writing to heal, then, and making that writing public, as I see it, is the most important
emotional, psychological, artistic, and political project of our time.” (DeSalvo, 1999, p.216)
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Table of Contents
Abstract ........................................................................................................................................... ii
Acknowledgments ......................................................................................................................... iii
Table of Contents ............................................................................................................................ v
The Practice and Potential of Expressive Writing Groups ............................................................. 1
Chapter One A Global Health Crisis .............................................................................................. 4 A World of Need ..................................................................................................................... 4 A Gap In Care ......................................................................................................................... 7 A Need for Innovation ............................................................................................................ 9 The ‘Write’ Way to Heal ...................................................................................................... 10
Chapter 2 Expressive Writing: A Literature Review .................................................................... 13 Learning to Write .................................................................................................................. 13 The Expressive Writing Paradigm ........................................................................................ 14 Benefits of Expressive Writing ............................................................................................. 16 Origins of Writing as Therapy .............................................................................................. 17 How and Why Expressive Writing Works ............................................................................ 19
Healing Mechanisms at Work ......................................................................................... 20 Boundary Conditions at Work ........................................................................................ 21
Mediating Factors.................................................................................................................. 22 Factors Unique to the Individual ..................................................................................... 22 The Role of Culture & Class ........................................................................................... 23 The Severity and/or Distance From the Trauma ............................................................. 24 Other Interventions at Work............................................................................................ 24
Areas for Future Research..................................................................................................... 25 The Internet and Expressive Writing .............................................................................. 25 Collective Intervention .................................................................................................... 25 Opportunity for Community Building ............................................................................ 26
The Potential of Expressive Writing Groups ........................................................................ 26
Chapter 3 Research Methods ....................................................................................................... 28 A Place for the Personal ........................................................................................................ 28
Narrative Inquiry as Self-Study Method ......................................................................... 28 Data Collection ............................................................................................................... 30
Organizational Case Study .................................................................................................... 30 Case Study as a Methodological Approach .................................................................... 30 Identifying the Unit of Analysis...................................................................................... 31 Data Collection ............................................................................................................... 32
Analysis of the Data .............................................................................................................. 32 Transformative Learning Theory .................................................................................... 33 Stages of transformation ................................................................................................. 34 Facilitating transformation .............................................................................................. 35 Creating an environment for transformative learning ..................................................... 36
Presentation of the Findings .................................................................................................. 37
Chapter 4 The Individual’s Experience with Expressive Writing ............................................... 38 Healing the Write Way ......................................................................................................... 38
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Expressive Writing at Work .................................................................................................. 47 The Impact of Expressive Writing .................................................................................. 47 Transforming Lives ......................................................................................................... 49
Measuring Success ................................................................................................................ 50 Benefits for Participants .................................................................................................. 51 Benefits for Facilitators ................................................................................................... 52
Summary of Findings ............................................................................................................ 53 Personal development and growth .................................................................................. 54 Development of a writing practice .................................................................................. 54 Sense of purpose/call to action........................................................................................ 55
Chapter 5 The Role of the Facilitator ........................................................................................... 56 Facilitating Hope ................................................................................................................... 56 Becoming a Facilitator .......................................................................................................... 59 Facilitation in Practice .......................................................................................................... 61
Creating Activating Events ............................................................................................. 61 Triggering............................................................................................................ 62 Censorship ........................................................................................................... 63
Helping Participants Identify and Articulate Assumptions & Encouraging Critical
Reflection ........................................................................................................................ 65 Encouraging Discourse Alongside Discussion ............................................................... 67 Creating an Openness to Alternatives & Supporting Learners as they Revise
Assumptions and Perspectives ........................................................................................ 68 Creating Experiential Learning Opportunities for Participants to Take Their Thoughts,
Ideas and Inspiration Outside the Group Setting ............................................................ 69 Summary of Findings ............................................................................................................ 70
Characteristics of an Expressive Writing Group Facilitator ........................................... 70 Training the Facilitator.................................................................................................... 71 Supporting the Facilitator................................................................................................ 72
Chapter 6 The Writing Group ....................................................................................................... 73 Growing a Community of Writers ........................................................................................ 73 Creating an Expressive Writing Group ................................................................................. 77
Establishing a Space for Writing .................................................................................... 77 Everyone is a Participant................................................................................................. 79 Necessary Conditions for Discourse ............................................................................... 80 Facilitator as Participant .................................................................................................. 81 Self–Directed Environment............................................................................................. 81
Summary of Findings ............................................................................................................ 82 Practices of an Expressive Writing Group ...................................................................... 83 Principals and Operating Procedures of an Expressive Writing Group .......................... 83 Foundations of an Expressive Writing Group................................................................. 84 Benefits of Practicing Expressive Writing in a Group .................................................... 84
Chapter 7 Conclusions .................................................................................................................. 86 The Power of Expressive Writing ......................................................................................... 86 The Potential of Expressive Writing Groups ........................................................................ 89
Study Limitations ............................................................................................................ 89 Study Contributions ........................................................................................................ 90 Implications and Opportunities ....................................................................................... 91
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Concluding Thoughts ............................................................................................................ 91
References..................................................................................................................................... 94
1
The Practice and Potential of Expressive Writing Groups
This thesis explores the potential of expressive writing groups as a means of supporting mental
health through trauma, transition and life stresses. My focus is on writing groups as a form of
collective support outside of clinical settings. I focus on writing groups because they address
the issue of isolation often associated with mental illness. While expressive writing can be an
individual exercise, there is power in sharing your story and being heard by others.
Additionally, there is a pressing need to build communities as a means of social support. I
focus on non- clinical settings because of the stigma often associated with seeking formal
treatment for mental illness alongside the discrepancy between need for support and
availability of trained professionals. I explore innovative opportunities and partnerships
outside of clinical settings with the hopes of expanding the network of support and increasing
the number of individuals who benefit.
I approach this work with a curiosity surrounding the potential of expressive writing groups to
be integrated in formal and non-formal settings such as workplaces, schools, community
organizations and emergency response initiatives, to name a few.
I am guided by the questions: How does an expressive writing group operate? What
practices, principals and procedures are in place and what are they based upon? How are
non-specialist, volunteer facilitators selected, trained, and supported as writing group
leaders? In what ways is program success measured?
In exploring this topic, I draw upon vast bodies of literature including the mental health
field, narrative psychology, expressive writing, the practice and pedagogy of teaching
writing, principals of adult education and community development.
I employ two qualitative research methods to conduct my research. First, I engage in self-
study narrative inquiry – reflecting upon and critically analyzing my experience as a writer,
writing group participant and volunteer facilitator. Social science research, over the past
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several decades, has argued that stories are the most natural way for human beings to make
sense of their lives (Bauer, McAdams & Pals, 2006). I offer my story with the hopes that it
will achieve the goals of narrative inquiry as articulated by Bullough and Pinnegar (2001)
namely to “provoke, challenge, and illuminate rather than confirm and settle” (p. 20).
Secondly, I conduct a case study of a non-profit organization at the forefront of integrating
expressive writing groups into existing community based programs and social service agencies
in Canada. I rely upon document analysis and interviews with senior administrators in the
organization to collect data for my case study.
Chapter one provides the context for my research. I draw upon relevant statistics and
information regarding the global mental health crisis to enforce the severity of this issue and
justify the need for research on innovative mental health support strategies. I outline the
purpose of my research on expressive writing groups and speak about the goals of my study.
Chapter two provides a review of the literature on expressive writing. I highlight what is
known and what is not – identifying gaps in the existing research which inform the design of
my research questions and inspire the work of this thesis.
Chapter three provides a description of and justification for each of my chosen research
methods. I outline the procedures used to select and engage with research participants and
materials. I also summarize my approach to analyzing the data collected through the lens of
transformative learning theory and explain the presentation style for my findings.
Chapter four is the first of three chapters outlining the results and findings of my research.
This chapter presents the individuals experience with expressive writing – the noted benefits
and challenges of engaging in this process.
Chapter five looks at the role of the facilitator as a model and mentor in expressive writing
groups. This chapter examines the criteria for selecting facilitator candidates, the training
process and the role played by facilitators within the group.
Chapter six is the final chapter outlining my research findings. This chapter explores the
benefits of expressive writing groups. It looks at the role of community, the policies and
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practices that are integral to the success of the group and ideal conditions for building an
expressive writing workshop.
Chapter seven provides a summary of the research findings and arguments presented in this
paper. I also discuss the limitations, contributions, implications and opportunities stemming
from the study results before offering concluding thoughts.
I present my research narratively as is appropriate for a study of this nature and, I hope,
beneficial as a model of expressive writing.
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Chapter One A Global Health Crisis
Five years ago, my husband of more than a decade handed me a note announcing his
departure from our marriage and home. As he walked out the door he took a suitcase full of
clothes and most of my identity. We had been together since I was 19 and nearly my entire
sense of self was intertwined with his as a partner, wife and mother to our three small
children. Every moment of my adult life had been shared with him and every plan for our
future had been made together. It was difficult to see where “we” ended and “I” began.
The trauma of shock, sting of rejection, loss of self-worth, stress over the unknown and fear
for my future consumed me. Post-traumatic stress left me in a foggy state of consciousness.
Sleepless nights and anxiety riddled days became my new normal. Parenting through a blur of
transitions left me emotionally exhausted. The compounding weight of stress associated with
the infinite changes left me dangerously thin and physically frail. My new identity as a single,
unemployed mother of three children under the age of 6 was difficult to accept. No part of my
new life felt familiar, manageable or desirable. Depression sunk what was left of my spirit.
This is how I came to understand what people mean when they talk about a ‘mental health
crisis’.
A World of Need
Every country in the world is currently facing a mental health crisis. Mental health
encompasses our emotional, psychological and social well-being. It impacts how we think, feel
and act – how we manage stress, make decisions and engage with the world around us. The
mental health of each individual is a unique product of social, environmental, genetic,
neurological, psychological and biological responses in the brain. Mental health problems exist
on a continuum from mild to debilitating (Patel et. al.,2018, para.4). The World Health
Organization estimates that more than 450 million people around the globe currently struggle
with mental health issues. In Canada that number is 6.7 million (The Centre for Addiction and
Mental Health, 2019).
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I am one of them.
Over the past 25 years there has been a global rise in mental health disorders (Patel et. al,
2018, para.2). The increase can be attributed to environmental, demographic and
sociopolitical shifts which are being felt around the globe. These shifts are often associated
with two highly contentious and heavily loaded terms - globalization and neoliberalism. Very
simply put, globalization refers to the decline in traditional barriers between nation states
(Beck, 2000). Neoliberalism refers to an economic theory which favours an increased role of
the private sector over government control. This is practiced through de-regulation, free trade
and privatization of services traditionally provided by governments (Brown, 2006).
The mobility of individuals, families, goods, knowledge, culture, services, and policies are
increasingly normal. This fluidity means we live in a world where our communities overlap in
new ways. Naturally there are political and cultural effects associated with these shifting
policies. While numerous benefits stem from globalization, new challenges arise in
determining where accountability rests when issues arise (Brodie, 2010). Globalization
challenges established systems such as pensions, the welfare state, the role of local
government, infrastructure policies, financial governance, employment competition,
production, lifestyle and family structure (Beck, 2000).
The most prominent effect of neoliberalism is the growing inequality being felt around the
globe as the rich get richer and the poor get poorer (Brodie, 2007). The growing economic
divide over access to resources has been most visibly protested in the United States through
civil action such as Occupy Wall Street and campaigns like ‘we are the 99%’ - a political
movement against 1% of the population controlling a disproportionate amount of the worlds
resources. Growing inequality has a far-reaching impact beyond the obvious imbalance in
material circumstances. These shifts in our social environment impact the health and wellness
of both individuals and communities (Wilkinson, 2006).
At the individual and household level, experiences such as “precarious employment,
declining incomes and benefits, and work-life balance” (Brodie, 2010, p.1563) result in
financial strain, fractured personal and social relationships. The impact of the growing social
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inequalities mean that large segments of the population are experiencing: financial hardship
often resulting in homelessness; challenges related to immigration and resettlement in an
attempt to find employment and safety; and frequent career changes in a technological era
where many jobs are being made redundant. These challenges are further exacerbated by
inequalities pertaining to gender, race and ethnicity (Quarter, Mook & Armstrong, 2018).
At the community level, mounting frustration and growing distrust are often evidenced and
perpetuated by violence, isolation, and reduced social interaction (Wilkinson, 2006).
Increased globalization and urbanization have resulted in communities comprised of
neighbours who often share little more in common than a postal code. Linguistic, cultural,
religious and political clashes are a growing source of struggle and divisiveness around the
world.
While not all life transitions result in mental or physical health decline, the amounting stress
frequently materializes in this way. The ripple effect is felt by individuals, their families,
caregivers and by society at large. The impact of large segments of our country being engaged
in transition poses major challenges for social service agencies, health policymakers and
politicians alike.
In 2018, 28 experts in the fields of psychiatry, public health and neuroscience in consultation
with mental health patients and advocacy groups released The Lancet Commission on Global
Mental Health and Sustainable Development. The Lancet Commission estimates that a global
failure to respond to the mental health crisis will amount to costs of $16 trillion dollars by
2030. This figure includes the direct cost of healthcare, medicine and other therapies.
Indirectly, the impact includes reduced productivity, increased spending on social welfare,
law, order and education. These numbers say nothing of the human costs which include
unnecessary suffering, isolation, and in extreme cases, death (Kelland, 2018).
“Mental health problems kill more young people than any other cause around the world,”
states Vikram Patel, a professor at the Harvard Medical School and lead co-editor of The
Lancet Commission (Boseley, 2018). It is estimated that 13.5 million deaths could be averted
globally if the underlying mental health issues were addressed (Boseley, 2018). “No other
health condition in humankind has been neglected as much as mental health” says Dr. Patel
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(Kelland, 2018). Despite research advances surrounding the prevention and treatment of
mental disorders, not a single country in the world has invested enough resources in
addressing this growing concern (Patel et. al., 2018, para.2). “When it comes to mental
health…every country is a developing country” declares Dr. Patel (Boseley, 2018).
A Gap In Care
In Zimbabwe, a country of over 16 million people, there are 12 psychiatrists. That’s
approximately 1 for every 1.5 million people (Nuwer, 2018). Dixon Chibanda is one of
them. Chibanda is the director of the African Mental Health Research Initiative and an
associate professor of psychiatry at the University of Zimbabwe and the London School of
Hygiene and Tropical Medicine (Nuwer, 2018).
At TEDWomen (2017) Chibanda illustrated the impact of scant resources through the story of
his former patient, 26-year old Erica. Chibanda received a call one night, months after treating
Erica. The call was from a doctor who informed him that Erica was hospitalized after
attempting suicide. The doctor said they needed Chibanda to come to the hospital to work
with Erica and make sure she wouldn’t try again. The hospital was 100 miles away so instead
Chibanda spoke with Erica’s mother and they agreed that, once she was well enough to be
discharged from the hospital, Erica and her mother would travel by bus to meet with
Chibanda and re-evaluate her treatment plan. A few weeks went by before Chibanda finally
received a call from Erica’s mother informing him that Erica had killed herself.
“Why didn’t you come?” Chibanda asked.
“We didn’t have $15 for the bus.” Erica’s mother replied (Chibanda, 2017).
§
Sadly, Erica’s story is not unique. Access to mental health services is a global issue in
developing and developed countries alike. Without exception, there is a gap in the care,
treatment, prevention and quality of support available (Patel et. al., 2018, para. 11). In many
countries around the world there is no expectation of help. Surveys in China and India suggest
that over 80% of those with a mental health disorder did not seek treatment. Those that did
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found the quality to be poor (Boseley, 2018). “Vast inequalities exist in the distribution of and
access to mental health resources, not only between but also within countries” (Patel et. al.,
2018, para.10).
According to the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH), only half of all
Canadians experiencing a major depressive episode receive ‘potentially adequate care’. Of
Canadians aged 15 or older who report having a mental health care need in the past year, one
third state that their needs were not fully met. Wait times for counselling and therapy can be
long. In Ontario, wait times of six months to one year are not uncommon (CAMH, 2017).
For individuals isolated by financial hardship or geographic isolation, barriers to support
services result in silent suffering. Often individuals suffering from mental health issues have a
reluctance towards clinical, professional or medical services (Kovandzic, 2010). Many people
in need resist clinical intervention because they do not want to be perceived as ‘unwell’, face
the stigma of a diagnosis or the ‘shame’ they associate with seeking help from a professional
(Kovandzic, 2010). Traditional therapy is not always the appropriate method, nor a viable
option for marginalized groups for whom both a lack of resources and/or desire may make
access to support difficult (Prater, 2016). In addition, navigating complicated networks to
access services relies on skills and resources that many people do not possess. The barriers are
often greatest for those with the greatest need.
While changes in public policy are essential to reducing many of the root causes of mental
illness on a global scale (Fine & Saad-Filho, 2017), there is a pressing need to address the
impact that is already felt by those being left behind. The Lancet Commission lists six
necessary actions in addressing the mental health agenda worldwide. First, mental health
services need to be scaled up to the same level of funding and accessibility as physical health
care and the relationship between the two must be emphasized. Second, efforts must be made
to address the stigma surrounding mental health through awareness campaigns, promotion and
protection. Third, public policies must be put in place and stakeholders must be engaged in
addressing mental health needs. Relationship building is especially pertinent in key sectors
such as health, education, workplaces, the criminal justice system and child/youth services.
Fourth, innovative methods must be explored especially those which employ trained non-
specialists and digital technologies which can help give voice to those living with mental
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health disorders. Fifth, significant financial investments need to be made in mental health care.
Finally, investment in research across a wide range of disciplines is integral to prevention,
intervention and treatment (Patel et. al., 2018, para. 5).
While most of us can agree that funding mental health programs is pertinent, we may not
agree on where and how those dollars should be allocated as we weigh one option and its
price tag against another. No solution is perfect in the treatment of human beings and their
complex emotions. This should not be an excuse in failing to act. Amongst the
overwhelming statistics, it is easy to forget each number represents a person.
A Need for Innovation
Haunted by Erica’s story, Dr. Chibanda was desperate to see a change in the availability of
mental health support in Zimbabwe. As the only psychiatrist working in the public health
space, Chibanda was told there were no resources to help him address the need for mental
health support that he could see growing in his country. Hospitals and staff were busy tackling
HIV, maternal and child health care issues. With no physical space and no staff to support his
work, Chibanda came up with an unconventional approach to delivering care. He looked to
what he did have access to – community volunteers, particularly grandmothers, and public
spaces. He integrated these two to create the Friendship Bench program. The Friendship
Bench program trains grandmothers in traditional talk therapies which they fuse with
indigenous concepts to deliver care and support to those in their villages. After conducting a
study to measure impact, the success of this innovative model became clear. In 2016 the
project piloted in New York City where there were over 30,000 visitors in the first year. The
city of London in the United Kingdom is now also considering rolling out a Friendship Bench
program. Victoria Simms, co- author of the Friendship Bench impact study suggest, “this isn’t
just a solution for low-income countries…This may well be a solution that every country in
the world could benefit from” (Nuwer, 2018).
In a time of overburdened, underfunded and often inaccessible health care systems, we need
to be increasingly innovative in finding ways to support the health and well-being of
individuals with an immediate need for help. Additionally, we must explore viable
alternatives for those whom the stigma of traditional therapy, the isolation of geography,
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health or other social constraints may make the use of clinical mental health support
systems unattractive or unavailable. If ever there was a time to think outside the box, that
time is now.
My research narrows in on a number of the recommendations outlined in The Lancet
Commission. I am interested in exploring innovative solutions to mental health support
which rely upon non-specialists and community partnerships. With proper screening and
training, I believe there is potential to engage more people in supporting mental well-being
beyond the limited number of trained professionals.
While not advocating that we let governments off the hook for providing adequate and readily
available care - the engagement of non-specialists allows us to overcome barriers to access that
exist for many who feel stigmatized by their mental health disorders and resist clinical
intervention for that reason. Training non-specialists also allows an opportunity to scale up
support at a faster rate.
Increasing the number of people engaged in providing mental health support outside of
clinical practitioners increases awareness and advocacy. Given most people will be touched
by mental health disorders in one way or another throughout their lives, equipping as many
people as possible with tools to support themselves and those around them is invaluable.
The ‘Write’ Way to Heal
In the months following the end of my marriage, I was overwhelmed with suggestions on how
to distract myself from the pain. “What you need is…” the swarming voices authoritatively
began, “a night out”, “a bottle of wine”, “a massage”, “a vacation!” Each of these suggestions
felt like little more than emotional band aids - like crutches for avoiding despair when I
needed tools for navigating it.
Fortunately, I had countless hours to troll the depths of the internet at night while my
children slept. Unable to grieve during the day while I feigned parenting, I reserved my pain
for the darkness of night when I sobbed into the embrace of my down duvet. I took up very
little space in the king size bed leaving ample room for sorrow.
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To be clear - writing was not my first choice. Alcohol was my first choice but my
increasingly frail frame rejected that approach and I was also keen to avoid child services so I
opted instead for valerian root tea and sleep aids. Therapy, yoga, meditation, inspirational
quotes on Pinterest, self-help books, fitness, religion – I tried it all.
The voice that told me to write was small. It was the voice of my 7-year old daughter.
“What will you do?” she asked one night, brown eyes gazing deep into mine from where her
head rested on the pillow beside me. She could see I was paralyzed by pain. They all could.
The kids watched me constantly. Three sets of eyes – brown, blue and green. I could not
afford to misstep.
“I don’t know,” I replied, for I truly did not.
“I do. You will write. You are a writer. Now go and write.”
§
In the end, it was writing that brought healing into my life, a renewed sense of self and
even feelings of hope.
The power and potential of writing as a tool for supporting the mental health and physical
well- being of individuals is not a particularly new way of thinking. The Greeks noted a
connection between language and feeling centuries ago (Brand,1979). In modern research the
expressive writing paradigm, defined as “simply writing about one’s deepest thoughts and
feelings about an emotional event” (Baddeley & Pennebaker, 2011, p.85) has been declared by
some scholars to be “one of the most innovative and influential research programs in
psychology during the past 25 years” (Bornstein, 2010, p.173). Amongst a pressing need, there
is a renewed interested in exploring writing as a support for mental health given the track
record of success, potential as a low-cost treatment, and flexibility for supporting isolated
segments of the population (Lepore & Smyth, 2009).
The purpose of my research is to explore the potential of expressive writing groups as an
innovative, effective and efficient mental health support system outside of clinical
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settings. I focus on writing groups because there is a pressing need to build communities
as a means of social support. I focus on non-clinical settings because of the stigma often
associated with seeking formal treatment for mental illness and because of the limited
number of trained professionals. Exploring partnership and program opportunities outside
of clinical settings expands the network of support in addition to increasing the impact.
I approach my research with a curiosity surrounding the potential of expressive writing groups
to be integrated into existing institutions, community programs and social structures. Inspired
by the third recommendation of The Lancet Commission to build relationships and engage
stakeholders, my research looks towards the compatibility of expressive writing group
structures within potential partner settings. For example: workplaces where professionals
experience profound stress (first responders, medical practitioners); educational systems
(especially in geographic settings where access to outside mental health support is limited or
stigmatized); or community settings.
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Chapter 2 Expressive Writing: A Literature Review
The purpose of this chapter is to explain the characteristics of expressive writing and
articulate the known benefits for mental and physical health. I offer a brief history of writing
as a form of therapy, explain why writing demonstrates prominence over other forms of arts-
based interventions, articulate who benefits from this practice and what mechanisms are
believed to be at work. In reviewing the relevant literature, I also highlight what is not known
about expressive writing and the areas for future research which inform my study.
Learning to Write
Growing up I attended a three-room elementary school nestled into the shadow of the Niagara
escarpment in rural Ontario, Canada. I am aware that the circumstances of my education make
me sound like a pioneer. I am not. It was in the basement of that tiny school that I wrote my
first short story. The piece was scribed in large wobbly print using a thick navy blue pencil on
an oversized piece of lined paper. My original masterpiece was entitled, “Around the World in
80 Days”. It turns out, there was another author who had written a story by the same name
more than a few years prior, although I certainly had not read it and swore I never would. My
teacher mumbled something about plagiarism before declaring, “This is very good writing!” I
was a child who thrived on A+’s, gold stars and praise, so this suited me very well.
I suspect that if I asked you to reflect upon your earliest experience with writing, there is a
good chance it took place within the classroom, much like mine did. There was more than
likely a template to follow and a creative process and topic dictated to you. Perhaps there was
a checklist and maybe even a diagram depicting a sandwich. The handout at my school had a
hamburger, complete with lettuce and tomato.
While you may have received a gold star for your efforts, chances are equally likely that your
teacher handed back a piece of paper dissected for spelling and grammar and stained with
blood- red ink. I have received my fair share of those pages as well. My experience in writing
groups over the past several years has demonstrated to me that there is no shortage of
14
individuals whose love of writing, belief in their own capacity, and creative spirit were killed
by that red ink. Many did not ever recover. Many no longer love to write. Many no longer
write at all.
I share this story for two reasons. First, because I have noticed that when I tell people I
research expressive writing and how it can help people navigate trauma and transition, there is
often a look of dread. Writing, for many, is associated with strict rules, harsh edits and barely
passing grades. The lingering scars of scornful teachers have often created trauma around
writing itself. The second reason I offer this example is because it highlights exactly what
expressive writing is not.
The Expressive Writing Paradigm
Expressive writing is personal writing about whatever is on your mind at the time you sit
down to write. Expressive writing takes a similar approach to what many writers label ‘free
writing’. The only rule, per se, is that once you begin writing you continue until the allotted
time runs out. The writer is challenged to pay no attention to grammar, spelling, punctuation,
audience or final ‘product’ (Baikie & Wilhelm, 2005).
The explanation of expressive writing outlined above is a summary of the instructions given
by James W. Pennebaker in his ground-breaking study which would come to be known as
Pennebaker’s Expressive Writing Paradigm. His curiosity stemmed from an interest in
repressed emotions and how they might contribute to illness. He believed the heaviness of
unwanted thoughts and emotions could have a profound effect on overall health and suggested
that the unhealthiness had very little to do with the thoughts themselves but rather everything
to do with keeping them suppressed. “Making an unacceptable thought acceptable is the first
step to healthy thinking” (Pennebaker, 1990, p. 60).
Pennebaker hypothesized that expressing emotions might lead to significant improvements
in physical and emotional health (Baker & Mazza, 2004). While his research was rooted in
traditional talk therapies, Pennebaker asked his study participants to write rather than talk as
an attempt to conduct his research independent of social feedback.
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Pennebaker’s writing studies, the first of which was reported on in 1986, tracked two groups
of college students – an experimental group and a control group. The participants in both
groups were asked to write for four consecutive days for 15 minutes each day (Pennebaker
& Seagal, 1999). The control group were asked about non-emotional topics while the
experimental group was asked to write about traumatic experiences in their lives
(Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999). The instructions the students received are below:
Once you are escorted into the writing cubicle and the door is closed, I want you to write
continuously about the most upsetting or traumatic experience of your entire life. Don’t
worry about grammar, spelling, or sentence structure. In your writing, I want you to discuss
your deepest thoughts and feelings about the experience. You can write about anything you
want. But whatever you choose, it should be something that has affected you very deeply.
Ideally, it should be about something you have not talked about with others in detail. It is
critical, however, that you let yourself go and touch those deepest emotions and thoughts
that you have. In other words, write about what happened and how you felt about it, and
how you feel about it now. Finally, you can write on different traumas during each session
or the same one over the entire study. Your choice of trauma for each session is entirely up
to you. (Pennebaker, 1990, p. 32)
The students took to the writing quickly and the majority found the results to be valuable and
meaningful. 98% said they would participate again, if given the choice. While the narratives
were interesting and covered a range of experiences including rape, family violence, suicide
attempts, drug problems – of greater significance to Pennebaker’s team of researchers was the
impact on the physical health of the participants. They followed the students’ illness visits to
the university health centre and noted the students in the experimental group drastically
reduced their visits to the health centre when compared to the control group who had written
about non- emotional topics (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999).
While early studies focused on stories of trauma and life events that had a negative impact,
more recent research has discovered that while the writing needs to be of an emotional nature,
it does not have to be about trauma in particular, nor a trauma that has been experienced by
the participant (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999). In fact, some studies now ask participants to
focus on writing about positive life transitions (Eg. Burton & King, 2009) in search of
physical health benefits (Baddeley & Pennebaker, 2011).
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Benefits of Expressive Writing
Since Pennebaker’s early research involving the impact of writing on the short and long term
health of college students, a flurry of studies have explored the effectiveness of expressive
writing on diverse populations struggling with a range of mental and physical health
challenges. Throughout the late 80’s until the early 2000’s, scholarship in expressive writing
produced a number of key findings summarized by Pennebaker & Seagal (1999):
▪ benefits are found across different populations
▪ expressive writing has an impact on the immune system
▪ writing produces both short and long term mood effects – sadness is often the
dominant emotion immediately following the writing period but in the long-term
participants see improvement in their general mood
▪ the impact of writing seems to be as beneficial, if not more so, than talking
▪ there have been no strong indicators that particular groups benefit more or less
than others
▪ there seems to be little correlation between the effects of writing and a
presumed audience
▪ the initial boundary conditions concerning time, length and spacing of writing
sessions seem to be flexible
▪ the writing topic must be of an emotional nature but does not have to be traumatic or
even negative for that matter
▪ benefits seemed to exist for individuals writing about belonging to a
particular stigmatized group (racial, religious, etc.)
More recently, a number of studies have been conducted to explore specific physical health
benefits. Medical conditions which have been found to see improvement through expressive
writing range from asthma and rheumatoid arthritis to pain management for cancer patients
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and other populations. Managing hospitalizations associated with cystic fibrosis, post-
operative healing, improved sleep in poor sleepers and immune response in HIV infection
have also been noted to see benefits from expressive writing. Psychological benefits have
been noted through studies of populations suffering from PTSD, struggling with
bereavement, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts or trauma (Baikie & Wilhelm, 2005).
Origins of Writing as Therapy
The connection between emotional expression, overall health and well-being is deeply rooted
in ancient philosophy. The Greeks were among the first reported humans to grasp the
significance of language and feeling evident in poetry and therapy. Both Freud and Jung drew
upon these early philosophical roots in their study of psychoanalysis. While Freud laid
foundations for research on creative expression, Jung’s work can be viewed as providing the
groundwork for modern expressive therapies (Brand, 1979).
In the decades that followed, writing gained prominence across a number of psychologies but
found no particular ‘home’ within the discipline. It was not until the 1950’s and 60’s that
writing saw a new level of acceptance, becoming less alternative in style and more
mainstream. While many practitioners saw writing as supplemental, others were starting to see
a freedom and safety through this approach that was not evident in their clinical work. Some
psychologists even began articulating a belief that this practice may replace professional
therapy (Brand, 1979).
With growing popularity came a breadth of therapeutic enterprises such as questionnaires,
short stories, poems, autobiographies, and open-ended diaries. Writing had been firmly
established within acceptable practice and was acknowledged as more beneficial for some
clients than talking about anxieties (Brand, 1979). The lucrative market of self-help books
promoting journaling, diary writing and workbook style writing activities demonstrates
mainstream acceptance of writing as a valuable therapeutic tool. In addition, the emergence of
the internet has offered further opportunities through online chat, Facebook groups and
blogging, to name a few. In reality, the emergence of social media has turned us all into
writers and has turned the solitary act of writing into an increasingly social activity. The
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internet has created a global community which simultaneously connects and isolates,
anonymizes and makes known, provides audience and questions authenticity.
The exploration of writing as an expressive therapy has raised many new and exciting
questions for researchers given consistent findings that it can benefit health in a range of ways
(Davidson et. al., 2009). “The mere expression of a trauma is not sufficient to bring about
long-term psychological changes. Health gains appear to require translating experiences into
language” (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999, p. 1248). Writing is a valuable tool for a number of
reasons. The most obvious being that people often find severely traumatic life experiences too
upsetting to verbalize with others. Individuals who are unable to confide their upsetting life
events often suppress thoughts, feelings and behaviours. Failure to disclose these emotions
over a long period of time may result in physical health issues (Pennebaker & Beall, 1986).
DeSalvo (1999) in her book, Writing as a Way of Healing: How telling our stories transforms
our lives, suggests writing over other forms of expression, because it gives order to thought,
turns trauma and suffering into art and allows us to make sense of the ‘shock’. She suggests
that accounting for moments of trauma and transition become less jarring when we can find a
place for them within our narrative. Writing our way through life’s challenges can help us to
celebrate our courage and survival.
Expressive writing is resource effective, does not have to be time consuming, can be self-
initiated and flexible. For those stunted by the stigma often surrounding mental health
services, the potential privacy of expressive writing can be an attractive alternative. The
affordability of writing and the reality that it can be done virtually any time or place makes it
a viable option for those isolated by health, social or geographic barriers. Beyond basic
literacy, expressive writing requires no innate talent other than the ability to put pen to paper,
fingers to keyboard, emotions into words (DeSalvo, 1999).
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How and Why Expressive Writing Works
Research reveals that expressive writing works sometimes and not others (Smyth &
Pennebaker, 2008) – which naturally begs the question, why?1 Is it the circumstance of the
individual? The boundary conditions surrounding the writing itself? The impact of a
facilitator or therapist? The severity or proximity of the trauma? These are the types of
questions alluding researchers of expressive writing today. “The very thing that we have not
been able to confidently identify is what makes this intervention so promising as an
intervention. Whatever the underlying mechanisms may be, the writing technique is extremely
malleable to differing situations, circumstances, participant conditions, and people” (Smyth &
Pennebaker, 2008, p. 3).
To date, efforts to understand the success of the method include studying the particular
language used suggesting that cognitive word use (eg. words related to processing such as;
because, therefore, think, understand, know) may be reflective of a search for meaning in
understanding the events and their impact (Boals, 2012). At one time, some scholars
suggested that perhaps the structure itself was the key to success. More recent studies which
have tested and tried the boundary conditions of expressive writing suggest much of what was
originally hypothesized is simply not true.
When debating how and why expressive writing is successful one needs to explore the
characteristics of the person and the process both individually and in relation to each other.
What, psychologically, is at work that allows expressive writing to impact the health of
individuals? What about the writing itself is essential to its effectiveness? I explore what is
known about the mechanisms and boundary conditions of how and why expressive writing
works below.
1 It is worth noting that such inconsistencies in effect are not unique to expressive writing but are common in the field of
psychological treatment. No intervention works in all cases and an approach that has a positive impact on one patient may in fact
inflict harm upon another (Barlow, 2010).
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Healing Mechanisms at Work
Pennebaker hypothesizes three mechanisms to account for the effectiveness of expressive
writing. First, writing about emotional experiences makes people more health aware causing a
shift in behaviours and habits. He admits this theory is weak with little supporting evidence.
Second, the act of self-expression is the healing mechanism. Early investigations focused on
the centrality of emotional expression while later studies suggest this may not be enough to
produce a positive change (Smyth, 1998). Pennebaker argues emotional expression alone is
insufficient pointing out that studies in non-verbal expression, such as dance, have not proven
as successful as writing. He suggests that emotional expression becomes more effective
through the cognitive processing required to put those thoughts and feelings into words.
“Translating distress into language ultimately allows us to forget or, perhaps better phrased,
move beyond the experience” (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999, p. 1251).
Pennebaker’s final theory supposes that the creation of a coherent narrative is key. He
suggests that the act of crafting a story helps to organize, summarize and make sense of the
trauma, which allows it to be more easily managed or even forgotten (Pennebaker & Seagal,
1999). Many social scientists have argued that crafting a personal story is the most natural
way for adults in modern societies to make sense and meaning of their lives (Bauer,
McAdams & Pals, 2006). Narrative identity, as it is known by psychologists, develops in
adolescence and is defined as “the internalized, evolving story of the self that each person
crafts to provide his or her life with a sense of purpose and unity” (Adler, 2012, p. 367).
“Through narrative identity, people convey to themselves and to others who they are now,
how they came to be, and where they think their lives may be going in the future” (McAdams
& McLean, 2013, p.233). Crafting this narrative provides an integration of the self across time
(Adler, 2012). As individuals, it is especially important during times of trauma or significant
life change that we integrate the disruptions into our narrative. The ability to connect the dots
between the every-day mundane events and more sporadic shocks and surprises of life is
essential to crafting an intact narrative identity. The integration of change experiences into
personal narratives is of particular interest to psychologists because they offer a unique
opportunity to understand how people make sense of their own development (Adler, 2012).
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To the extent expressive writing can be considered a tool in forming a cohesive narrative
identity, researchers draw a connection between exhibiting a cohesive narrative and subjective
feelings of happiness and wellbeing. An intact narrative contributes to happiness in three
ways. Firstly, happy people tend to emphasize personal growth as integral to their current state
of well- being. Secondly, happy people tend to frame difficult life moments as transformative
learning experiences where they gained valuable insight about the self. Finally, the narrative
of happy people follows the classic pattern of a redemption story where overcoming an
obstacle has led them to a fuller actualization of the self (Bauer, McAdams & Pals, 2006).
Perhaps the most significant component of crafting a personal narrative is the ending we write
(Bauer, McAdams & Pals, 2006). Like the final chapter of a book, the tone of where and how
we leave our character sets the mood for how we move forward from that part of the story. A
pivotal study by Adler (2012) revealed that a cohesive narrative makes way for an improved
state of mental health and not the other way around. We write our path forward and then live
our way into it. That said, only positive endings that fully acknowledge the negative impact
and incorporate moments of pain and struggle as a part of the narrative will result in improved
health and well-being (Bauer, McAdams & Pals, 2006). “We are the accumulation of the
stories we tell ourselves about who we are…It isn’t that we use our writing to deny what
we’ve experienced. Rather, we use it to shift our perspective” (DeSalvo, 1999, p. 11).
Boundary Conditions at Work
In addition to wondering about the mechanisms functioning through the writing process,
scholars have also examined and called into question the writing instructions and boundary
conditions themselves. While Pennebakers’ initial guidelines concerning length, frequency and
duration of writing informed early research, recent studies have attempted to alter these
boundary conditions – many still recording benefits to the process with different parameters in
place. Pennebaker, along with other scholars, are beginning to probe and question the initial
boundary conditions assumed to be integral to the success of expressive writing.
As researchers search for the ‘right recipe’, it is assumed the success factors are multifaceted
and based on the length of time spent writing, individual personality types, influence of what
happens between writing sessions, certain inconsistencies in the facilitation as well as the role
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of moderators and mediators. In fact, these five areas are the ones Pennebaker suggests
revisiting in future research (Pennebaker & Smyth, 2008). Motivated by the continued interest
in studying expressive writing, Pennebaker states, “…one of the most exciting aspects of the
original writing method has been its ability to generate new ways of thinking about emotions,
cognitive processing, and health” (Smyth & Pennebaker, 2008, p. 6).
While researchers get lost in debating the fine point details – exploring the limits and
conditions under which expressive writing is most impactful, or not, as the case may be –
practitioners and clinicians are more excited about the general ‘success’ of the method. There
is much to validate this excitement as the impact of expressive writing studies suggest a
promising supplement to mainstream therapy.
In exploring both the mechanisms and boundary conditions of expressive writing there are
more questions than answers. The reality is, pinpointing exactly how and why it works is
difficult to prove. There are too many contributing factors to isolate any fail proof criteria
which is why, to date, no single theory has been found to explain precisely why expressive
writing works. Most scholars seem to accept that it is likely a combination of the factors
discussed above that proves effective.
Mediating Factors
No one knows for sure why expressive writing works for some and not others but several
hypotheses have been presented, each pointing a finger towards various elements of the
paradigm, practice or participant. I explore these ideas below.
Factors Unique to the Individual
The majority of expressive writing studies have suggested that age, class, race or gender are
not factors in whether the practice is beneficial as an intervention, there is some debate about
whether or not this is true. Smyth (1998), for example, found that expressive writing may be
more beneficial for men than women. Much of the research in expressive writing relies on
college students given they are a population predictably in the course of change but this could
impact what is known about age (Smyth, 1998). A study in the Netherlands (Stroebe &
Stroebe, 1996) on recently bereaved older adults failed to find benefits to writing causing
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some to wonder if more studies need to be conducted with different age groups to explore the
potential success of expressive writing across the spectrum (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999).
Additionally, personality traits of the individuals may make some more prone to benefit
from expressive writing than others. Christensen & Smith (1993) suggests that individuals
who are suspicious towards the benefits of expressive writing are more likely to benefit than
those who do not exhibit such traits (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999). Understanding whom the
ideal candidates are to benefit from expressive writing might help target programs and
contribute to understanding the mechanisms at work.
The Role of Culture & Class
Success with expressive writing has been reported across multiple countries, languages, and
ethnicities. Expressive writing, at its core is an exercise in crafting a cohesive narrative or life
story - fitting a life disruption into a storyline one can accept as their own that demonstrates a
cohesion with past, current and imagined future self (Adler, 2012). In North American culture,
there is a great deal of emphasis in film, television and literature on the ‘redemptive story’
where conquering obstacles and emerging better for it on the other side is a familiar and much
celebrated plot. It is unclear whether participants from cultures where this style of narrative is
not popularized would find the same success with expressive writing (Bauer, McAdams &
Pals, 2006). Additionally, it raises questions about cultures where there is a negative
association with writing as a class-based or scholarly activity. Would the impact be as strong
in cultures with stronger oral storytelling traditions?
In some cultures, mental health and the processing of trauma carry different degrees of
stigma which can impact the willingness or ability of individuals to express emotions. This
could make expressive writing a natural support system given it can be done privately and
anonymously. Alternatively, cultural implications might create barriers for others. Letting out
personal thoughts and feelings, even just to a piece of paper, might feel too risky for some
who fear discovery and the potential shame associated with it. Either way, the role of cultural
norms is one which requires further exploration.
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The Severity and/or Distance From the Trauma
When exploring the impact of expressive writing, it is pertinent to consider the individuals
current relationship to the trauma. Is the individual still heavily engrossed in the moment? Or
are they reflecting upon something from their past? Are they in a current state of distress or
have they moved beyond the trauma?
An Israeli study of PTSD patients (Gidron, Peri, Connolly, & Shalev, 1996) did not find
writing to be beneficial causing debate over the effectiveness of expressive writing on
individuals suffering from a more current and perhaps more severe level of trauma
(Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999). Both the severity of and the distance from the trauma could be
relevant in the impact upon the individual (Smyth, 1998). Complicating the discussion further,
to date the instructions in expressive writing studies have varied in asking participants to deal
with either an ongoing or past trauma making it hard to draw conclusive findings.
While it is easy to get excited about expressive writing as a potentially innovative and
resource effective tool for supporting individuals through trauma and transition, it is
important that its promotion not be taken as discounting traditional therapeutic interventions.
Expressive writing may be enough for some people who are somewhat removed from their
trauma or who are suffering from a less severe experience. For many, it is a tool which can
work alongside other therapeutic interventions.
Other Interventions at Work
Perhaps the most obvious reason why expressive writing works sometimes and other times
does not is the impact of other interventions which cannot be accounted for. One cannot
know what happened between the writing sessions nor accurately weigh the impact of one
form of intervention over another. When navigating trauma and transition, most individuals
employ a number of techniques in helping to alleviate their suffering including, for example –
fitness, spiritual guidance, other forms of therapy or meditation. This makes it difficult to
assess the credit due to each intervention.
Across the studies conducted to date, researchers have attempted to measure the impact
through a range of statistics related to such variables as absentee rates, physician visits, school
25
grades, and immune markers (Pennebaker, 2009). Commenting on the state of scholarship in
expressive writing Pennebaker (2009) admits “An all-too-often unspoken secret about these
measures is that they are terribly, terribly messy” (p.285). Often researchers have relied on
self-reporting which raises concerns for some while others are less bothered by it arguing - if
the hope is for the individual to feel happier/healthier/less anxious and they claim to, is the
objective not met irrespective of scientific proof?
Areas for Future Research
There are numerous elements of the expressive writing paradigm that are ripe for further
study. In addition to the areas outlined above, there are possibilities within expressive
writing that remain largely unexplored and untouched by researchers in the field. I introduce
these topics below.
The Internet and Expressive Writing
“Recent research suggests that writing at a distance from a professional helper has solid
potential benefit. Studies in distance writing suggest that the Internet may facilitate this quite
well” (Pennebaker & Evans, 2014, p.17). Indeed, the emergence of the internet has
revolutionized health care as access to knowledge, resources and each other is now virtually
limitless. The potential of e-therapies, online support groups, interapy, e-counselling and self-
guided treatment program websites are growing rapidly (Abott, Klein & Ciechomski, 2008).
To some scholars, the internet represents the future of therapeutic practice. Write L’Abate &
Sweeney (2011), “There is no question in our minds that most mental health service deliveries
will be performed online” (p. 132).
Collective Intervention
Smyth & Catley (2009) in their article Translating Research into Practice: Potential of
Expressive Writing in the Field argue that it is worth moving beyond simply exploring the
health benefits of expressive writing for individuals and investigate opportunities for
community level interventions. “Because the expressive writing intervention can be self-
administered at virtually no cost, it lends itself to a community level implementation. The
simplicity and demonstrated efficacy of the intervention with large nonclinical cohorts (e.g.
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students) also suggest that efficacy loss may be limited when it is implemented at a
community level” (Smyth & Catley, 2009, p. 211).
Opportunity for Community Building
Already gaining interest from a variety of disciplines, future study exploring community level
implementation opens the door to a whole new world of social and societal benefits as a
starting point for cross-cultural dialogue and community building. Expressive and creative
writing groups focused on topics which are often universal in nature (the trauma of loss,
heartbreak, illness) present a unique opportunity for dialogue and social interaction that
challenge assumptions and illuminate similarities rather than differences. Group cohesion that
frequently results from vulnerable, honest and personal storytelling could have tremendous
potential in bridging the many barriers of forming communities in an increasingly migratory
and global society.
The Potential of Expressive Writing Groups
It is difficult to ignore the sheer volume of scholarship and immense possibility of
Pennebakers’ paradigm. The opportunity to support the mental health and overall well-being
of individuals for whom traditional therapies are unavailable or unattractive, the potential of a
non-clinical collective intervention and the possibilities for building community make it an
especially exciting field. Accepting the gaps in knowledge, there is too much potential to
leave this opportunity unexplored as an innovative solution to the global mental health crisis.
States Pennebaker (2004), “in the real world, a large number of people need inexpensive, fast,
and effective treatments in their dealing with traumas, emotional upheavals, and daily
stressors” (p.141).
Amongst the piles of reading I did on the expressive writing paradigm I found only a handful
of works offering suggestions on how to build an expressive writing practice. Most notable
among them were Pennebaker & Evans (2014) Expressive Writing: Words that Heal,
DeSalvo (1999) Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling our Stories Transforms our Lives
and Pat Scheider’s (2003) Writing Alone and with Others inspired by Peter Elbow’s (1973,
1998 2nd Ed.) revolutionary approach in Writing Without Teachers.
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Without a doubt, Schneider provides the most valuable resource for anyone looking to start a
writing group. Her AWA (Amherst Writers & Artists) method is thoughtful and consists of
essential practices, helpful anecdotes illustrating issues that may arise and considerations for
the workshop leader. Her work provides the foundation and facilitator training model for most
writing workshops outside of classroom settings where the focus of the group extends beyond
the pursuit of publication. I explore the key practices of the AWA method in subsequent
chapters.
Intrigued by the process of an expressive writing group and dissatisfied with the scholarship in
this area given its potential for scalable impact in the area of mental health support – I found
myself looking to make a contribution in this area. What is the benefit of writing in groups?
Prior studies conclude that an audience is not necessary for an individual to find benefits with
expressive writing – but what benefits might there be to sharing and witnessing the writing of
others? How might that build community? How might that reduce isolation? Could this work
be done in a range of settings? Could you create a space where people would feel comfortable
enough to be so vulnerable? Who could facilitate that sort of work? What might that look like?
Who might that benefit? What partnerships might be forged? Could expressive writing help fill
a void in a broken mental health system?
These were the sorts of questions left stewing in my head and they came to form the
foundations for my research. I had my own experience with expressive writing and I could
now see that sharing my story, while exposing me as vulnerable would also be valuable -
contributing to this body of knowledge in a much more practical way. I had insights into what
an expressive writing group looked like as a result of volunteering with an expressive writing
organization but my knowledge was anecdotal and experiential. My goal in conducting this
research was to put scholarly strength behind dissecting and analyzing my personal
knowledge in accordance with adult education theories and practices and to present those
findings in a meaningful way.
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Chapter 3 Research Methods
To conduct my research on expressive writing groups, I designed a mixed methods qualitative
study. The study utilized both narrative inquiry and case study analysis. In this chapter I
provide a description of and justification for each of my chosen methods. I outline the
procedures used to select and engage with research participants and materials. I also
summarize my approach to analyzing the data collected through the lens of transformative
learning theory and explain the presentation style for my findings.
A Place for the Personal
There exists, in academic life, a sentiment that a researcher should be at arms-length from their
scholarly work. This belief stems from the idea that distance will result in an objectivity, purity
and validity that is considered both desirable and highly unachievable by the biased and
invested scholar. This is a positivist approach to research I do not possess. Conventional
researchers often erect a dichotomy of reason and emotion which excludes much of the human
experience (Coulter & Smith, 2009). As such, I must label myself an unconventional scholar
and confess that I am neither disinterested nor disengaged, but rather deeply invested in my
research.
My research is heavily motivated by my lived experience both as someone struggling with
mental health and as someone who has benefited greatly from expressive writing. My
experience with writing and in writing groups as a participant and facilitator enhance my
knowledge of the subject. I do not apologize for this but rather embrace the way my personal
experience motivates, informs and deepens my scholarship. My story is so deeply integrated
into the fabric of my work that there seems no other way to present my research but
narratively.
Narrative Inquiry as Self-Study Method
“The social sciences are concerned with humans and their relations with themselves and
their environments, and, as such, the social sciences are founded on the study of experience”
(Clandinin & Connelly, 1994). The human experience is a storied one. People live storied
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lives and express their experiences through the stories they choose to share. “A story has a
sense of being full, a sense of coming out of a personal and social history” (Clandinin &
Connelly, 1994, p.415). Narrative inquiry draws upon the stories of lived experience as a
way of knowing. The stories emerge through data collection (eg. interviews, artefacts,
journals) and are then examined through an analytic process that is both rigorous and artistic
(Coulter & Smith, 2009). Narrative inquiry is a methodological approach to research that is
especially common in the field of education and gaining prominence in the medical and
healthcare fields.
The purpose of narrative inquiry is not to verify knowledge but to portray experience,
question understanding and allow the reader space for their own interpretation (Coulter &
Smith, 2009). This is not to say that narrative implies fiction. Although narrative research
and fiction writing may share literary techniques, narrative research is exactly that. It is
research based on data collection and analysis which the author is tasked with weaving into
a cohesive narrative that conveys knowledge. All knowledge is “constructed through
transactions among researchers, participants, evidence, and the social context” (Coulter &
Smith, 2009, p. 588) – narrative research is no different.
Narrative inquiry aims to “stimulate readers’ imaginations, promote empathy and compassion
for others, change perspectives, and promote new ways of knowing and being” (Beattie, 2019,
p.252). A well conducted and crafted narrative inquiry aims to balance reason and emotion to
help the reader make connections and form ideas within themselves (Beattie, 2007). In this
sense, narrative inquiry as a methodological approach requires not just a great deal of effort on
the part of the researcher, but also demands a particular type of relationship with the reader
that is perhaps unexpected in scholarly research - namely one of intimacy (Eisner, 1995).
Narrative inquiry can be conducted as a self-study or in collaboration with a research
participant. My research is a self-study narrative inquiry. Through narrative, I make unspoken
knowledge explicit, demonstrate the depth of my professional learning, create a temporal self-
portrait which can be used for personal and professional reflection and provide a case study
which aims to raise questions for other researchers. There is significance in my storied life for
others and that is the purpose in sharing it. My intimate relationship to the subject matter and
30
body of academic knowledge surrounding expressive writing makes my contribution both
unique and valuable.
My story is a living and breathing entity – it is a “historical document – a snapshot in time”
(Beattie, 2007, p. 163). The writing of this narrative helps me to “make links between the
continuities of (my) past, (my) emerging future, and the present (I am) enacting” (Beattie,
2007, p.163). It also clarifies the purpose of my research, informs my reading of relevant
literature and shapes my research questions. My lived experience begs questions about the
potential of expressive writing and how it might serve others the way it has served me.
Data Collection
In their guidelines for self-study research, Bullough and Pinnegar (2001) write “a claim to be
studying oneself does not bring with it an excuse from rigor” (p.15). To engage in my self-
study narrative inquiry I became a student of my chosen method, taking a class in Narrative
and Story in Professional Practice and Research in the Curriculum Teaching and Learning
Department at the University of Toronto’s Ontario Institute for Studies in Education with
Professor Mary Beattie – a prominent scholar and practitioner of the method. I collected data
from a number of sources including my researcher journal, reflections, peer interviews, an
artefact presentation, field notes as well as my creative writing notebooks, short stories and an
unpublished manuscript. Additionally, I reviewed relevant bodies of literature in the areas of
self-study and narrative research.
Organizational Case Study
Case Study as a Methodological Approach
Drawing upon narrative inquiry self-study methods to paint a more intimate portrait of
expressive writing at work on an individual level, I then conducted a case study to look at
expressive writing groups in a broader sense. The case study as a research strategy is hard to
define. Gerring (2004) suggests a case study to be “an intensive study of a single unit for the
purpose of understanding a larger class of (similar) units” (p. 342). Case study research is
especially appropriate when one is looking to understand how or why something works. They
are well suited for studies of contemporary phenomenon where no control over the behavior of
31
the subjects or events being studied is required. The value of this approach is that it aims to
simultaneously explain, describe, illustrate and enlighten (Yin, 2014).
Case studies take on many forms. They can involve either single or multiple cases and
numerous levels of analysis within a single study. It is this complexity and flexibility which
causes confusion in defining the term. The case itself does not need to be a person but can be
“an institution, a program, a responsibility, a collection or a population” (Stake, 1978, 7).
Whatever unit of analysis is chosen, it is essential that there are boundaries defining what is
and what is not being studied.
Identifying the Unit of Analysis
In my research, I studied one organization which operates expressive writing groups in
collaboration with a number of social service and community partner organizations. In
accordance with my ethics approval, I have committed to keeping the name of this
organization confidential so will refer to them simply as The Writing Centre.
My relationship with The Writing Centre pre-dates my research as I have served as a
volunteer facilitator with the organization. To preserve the integrity of my research and create
a distance between my role as a volunteer and my role as a researcher, I refrained from active
participation as a volunteer for the duration of my data collection, analysis and the drafting of
results. Given the research focused primarily on document analysis and interviews with the
founder and board chair of The Writing Centre, any relationship with the researcher was
unlikely to involve any actual or perceived power differential.
The information gathered through my research with The Writing Centre examines the impact
of their workshops, the policies and procedures of the organization, the practices of the
writing groups they operate and the role of the volunteer facilitators. I selected to work with
The Writing Centre because of their significant experience in offering expressive writing
workshops. The Writing Centre operates as a not-for-profit organization where workshops are
free for participants as well as host organizations and are facilitated by trained volunteers. The
Writing Centre partners with existing organizations demonstrating an adaptability to a range
of settings (eg. Shelters, libraries, crisis, mental health and addiction centers) and works with a
broad cliental (eg. LGBTQ, youth, homeless, abused women, refugees, first nations).
32
Each of these characteristics made The Writing Centre unique as a service provider and
aligned with the over-arching motivation behind my research – namely to look for
innovative, non-clinical collective interventions for mental health support that would be
accessible and affordable for a range of populations and settings.
Data Collection
Case studies typically draw upon a number of data collection methods such as interviews,
observation, and questionnaires – to name a few. To conduct this study, I became a student of
my chosen method, taking a class in Logics and Strategies of Case Study Research in the
Leadership, Higher and Adult Education Department at the University of Toronto’s Ontario
Institute for Studies in Education with Professor Creso Sá. I reflected upon my training and
experience as a volunteer facilitator of an expressive writing group, reviewed facilitator
training manuals, documents and sample workshop resources. I engaged in document analysis
of relevant organizational materials including a thorough exploration of the organizations
website, media coverage, grant applications, strategic planning documents, scheduling
documents and impact statements from partner organizations and individual participants. I
reviewed a major study conducted on the impact of The Writing Centre’s participants and
facilitators and met with the lead researcher to discuss the findings. I reviewed Pat Schneider’s
book, Writing Alone and With Others (Oxford University Press, 2003). This book is
considered the basis for the Amherst Writers & Artists (AWA) method. The AWA method
provides the model for The Writing Centre’s workshops. Finally, I conducted a 2-hour semi-
structured interview with the founder of The Writing Centre and the President of the Board of
Directors to discuss the origins, mission, vision and values of The Writing Centre as well as
the basis for various policies and practices surrounding the workshop structure and facilitator
recruitment, training and support programs
Analysis of the Data
Upon wrestling with my vast collection of data and reflecting upon my initial research
questions it became evident that each question probed a different level of analysis. The first
question “how does an expressive writing workshop operate?” was concerned with the
community environment, how it is created and what policies and practices are integral to its
33
ultimate success. The second question wondered about the role of the facilitator – how they
were recruited, trained and supported. The third question, “how do you measure program
success?” probed the experience of the participant. While not explicit in the language – this
third question also alluded to a curiosity surrounding the impact of both the group and
facilitator on the individual – in essence asking - what is the merit of practicing expressive
writing in a group instead of on your own?
As I poured over my data, it also became evident that while my stated intention was to gain
further understanding of what expressive writing workshops looked like in practice what I
really wanted was slightly more specific. What I hoped to find was a model or template that
might be transportable into a range of settings in service of a broad span of populations
grappling with a vast array of personal traumas or transitions.
In recognizing these two truths, I was able to see expressive writing workshops not just as
extra- curricular support groups for mental health and creative expression but as adult learning
communities. As such, I looked to principals of adult education more broadly, and
transformative learning theory more specifically, to provide a theoretical framework of
analysis for my research findings.
Transformative Learning Theory
Transformative learning is a “process by which individuals or social groups undergo a deep
shift in perspective that leads them to a more open, permeable and better justified frame of
reference” (Cranton, 2013, p. 101). Transformative learning theory, as conceived by Jack
Mezirow, builds upon Habermas’ theory of knowledge. Habermas’ identified three types of
knowledge evident in adult education. The three types of knowledge are: instrumental (or
scientific, more factual knowledge), communicative (understanding of ourselves and the
norms of the society in which we live), and emancipatory (self-awareness which arises from
critical self-reflection and awareness) (Cranton, 2002). Mezirow argued that although adult
learning could be related to all three, emancipatory, or self-knowledge, was of primary
importance as it had the potential to be truly transformative (Spencer & Lange, 2014).
34
Mezirow’s transformative learning theory is focused on perspective transformation which he
describes as the “process by which adults come to recognize their culturally shaped roles and
relationships and the reasons for them, and then to take action to overcome the aspects that
no longer serve them well” (Spencer & Lange, 2014, p. 77). In this process learners no longer
need to find space for new knowledge within their existing frames of reference but can shift
the frames themselves which permits new possibilities for learning, action and relationships
(Spencer & Lange, 2014). Transformative learning is a process that is both rational and
emotive and reflective of adult education’s goals to educate for “life not just for livelihood”
(Spencer & Lange, 2014, p. 75). Writes Mezirow, “A defining condition of being human is
that we have to understand the meaning of our experience…Facilitating such understanding
is the cardinal goal of adult education” (Mezirow, 1997, p.5).
Stages of transformation
In his early writing, Mezirow proposed various steps or stages that would ultimately lead
the learner to transformation. They are summarized by Cranton (2002) below:
▪ An activating event that exposes a conflict between what a person has always assumed
to be true and what is now being experienced
▪ Articulating personal assumptions that are often unconscious
▪ Critical self-reflection looking at where personal assumptions came from, why they
are important and what the consequences are of holding on to them
▪ Being open to alternative viewpoints
▪ Engaging in dialogue where alternative perspectives are explored
▪ Revising assumptions
▪ Acting on these revised assumptions in a way that demonstrates a shift in perspective
These stages of transformational learning are consistent with the concepts of creating a
cohesive narrative identity discussed earlier in this paper. The activating event (a trauma,
transition or life stressor) disrupts our sense of self. Critical self-reflection helps us to see the
ways in which this activating event has disconnected our past-experience from our current
reality and imagined future. This self-reflection helps us to find a place for the disruption
within our narrative that we can make sense of and accept – often illuminating a new path
35
forward, making space for new perspectives or view points and allowing us to create a new
vision for our future. In essence, expressive writing is a tool to guide individuals through this
process.
Facilitating transformation
“We cannot teach transformation. We often cannot even identify how or why it happens. But
we can teach as though the possibility always exists…” (Cranton, 2002, p. 70-71). While no
teaching methods guarantee transformation, there are strategies that work towards it. A lot of
what takes place within the student cannot be predicted – a film, quote or anecdote from
another student may spark just as much of a reaction as a well-polished lesson.
To facilitate a transformative learning experience, a teacher must engage learners in critical
self- reflection that helps them to both see their operating assumptions and feel comfortable
having those assumptions challenged. In this sense, transformative learning is a vastly
different form of education than which children participate in. Transformative learning in
adult education operates under the assumption that the lived experience of each student in the
class has already been formed into a well-developed frame of reference (Mezirow, 1997).
For meaningful learning to occur, the new information being learned in the classroom must be
incorporated into that existing frame of reference. This is done through critical self-reflection
and discourse with others. Participation by all students is significant as this is where
conflicting beliefs emerge to challenge assumptions and evoke meaning making. The
environment created by the facilitator is integral to the success of this process (Mezirow,
1997).
The key strategies for teaching transformation are summarized by Cranton (2002) below:
▪ Create opportunities for “activating” events - use various medium to present views
which might be discrepant with existing student viewpoints – the arts are especially
valuable in this way
▪ Help students identify and articulate assumptions - prompts and questions can help
36
students slowly peel back the layers of what assumptions they hold and where they
were formed – autobiographies can be a powerful to do this work
▪ Encourage critical self-reflection – reflective journals, small group discussion, and
posing a lot of questions are great strategies
▪ Create an openness to alternatives – role play, debate and letter writing from
different points of view can help to explore different perspectives on issues
▪ Encourage discourse alongside discussion – discourse is a one-way, cooperative
communication style where one person is able to speak freely and articulate their
position (more like an informal talk or presentation). The goal of discourse is for
the speaker to deliver information to a listener. Discussion is a two-way cooperative
communication style where two or more participants engage in a back and forth
conversation style to explore a topic together
▪ Support learners as they revise assumptions and perspectives – this can be an
emotional process which may require support beyond the classroom
▪ Create experiential learning opportunities for students to take their new thoughts,
ideas and inspiration beyond the classroom setting
Creating an environment for transformative learning
In creating a space for transformation to occur, one must build an environment where
participants feel safe, supported and empowered to challenge and be challenged (Cranton,
2002). Participants must feel safe to offer their opinions honestly and openly and engage in
healthy discourse with their peers. Effective discourse requires equal opportunity for
individuals to participate as both speaker and listener. Participants should feel free from
coercion and should be encouraged to be critically reflective, open to new perspectives, and
demonstrate respect in how they listen and offer feedback (Mezirow, 1997).
In a transformative learning environment, the teacher acts as a facilitator rather than an
authority on a subject matter. The facilitator models the type of critical reflection that is
expected of learners and ideally works themselves out of a position of authority and into the
role of a co- learner or participant. Ultimately, leadership is assumed by the group and the
participants become more self-directed (Mezirow, 1997).
37
To summarize, necessary criteria for a transformative learning environment include:
▪ Safe and welcoming space for participants
▪ Equal opportunities to participation
▪ Ideal conditions for discourse
▪ Facilitator as participant and co-learner rather than authority figure
▪ Self-directive environment
Presentation of the Findings
Creating a transformative learning environment and experience is the goal of expressive
writing groups. Transformative learning theory, as outlined above, creates a natural structure
for analyzing and presenting the results of my study. In the chapters which follow, I organize
the findings of my research into three chapters. The three chapters each examine the practice
of expressive writing groups from a different perspective. These are: the experience of the
individual, the role of the facilitator and the community environment. I integrate the data
collected through both the narrative inquiry and the case study into each of these chapters
relying on the criteria of transformative learning as outlined above to add further structure to
my findings.
38
Chapter 4 The Individual’s Experience with Expressive Writing
This chapter deals with the individuals encounter with expressive writing and addresses the
research question – in what ways is program success measured? It consists of a narrative
inquiry probing my personal experience with expressive writing as an individual navigating
trauma and transition. The narrative inquiry follows an arc similar to that outlined by Mezirow
and Cranton in their articulation of the stages of transformative learning including - an
activating event, articulating personal assumptions, critical self-reflection, being open to
alternative viewpoints, engaging in dialogue, revising assumptions and acting on the revised
assumptions.
I further explore the experience of expressive writing from the perspective of the participant
individual through case study analysis. I use data collected through an interview with the
founder of The Writing Centre, testimonials from writing group participants gained through
organizational materials, as well as survey data accessed through a pilot evaluation study
conducted on The Writing Centre by Dr. Kelly McShane from Ryerson University (2018). I
summarize the findings of this chapter into three success criteria for measuring the impact of
an expressive writing workshop: 1) personal development and growth; 2) development of a
writing practice; 3) sense of purpose/call to action.
Healing the Write Way
“We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that
life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height we also see that our dream was
our fate. It’s just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there”
(Okri in Beattie, 2007, p.164).
My divorce wasn’t simply the loss of a man or a marriage, it was the dissolve of all I knew to
be true about the world. My divorce left me disoriented and struggling to reconcile what I
thought I had known about love, belonging, family and trust. As humans, we define ourselves
by the titles and roles we hold. Accompanying my divorce was the loss of my role as wife.
39
Instead I gained titles like single and alone. Alongside his request for joint custody came a
revised job description for me as a full-time mother. I was now unemployed and irrelevant,
reduced to a 50% workload I was made redundant by his new nanny. Accompanying the sting
of his rejection, rang words like – disposable and worthless. These new titles were the ones I
now felt defined by which is why I found it particularly jarring when my daughter labelled me
a writer.
To be clear, I was not a writer and it shocked me that she would say such a thing. Throughout
my life writing had been a skill I learned in school, a form of communication, a professional
tool and a hot and cold hobby but little more. While I confess to harbouring the ubiquitous
dream of becoming a published author – this was not a label I could own. In that moment, the
only labels that could describe me were sad, lonely and depressed.
I signed up for a writing class for a number of reasons. I wrote to escape the painful hours
when my children visited their father. I wrote to explore something that had once brought me
joy and to make space for a creative self I had not nurtured in a long time. Most of all, I
wrote because the words of my daughter kept ringing through my ears. Writing might ‘heal’
others and help them ‘find themselves’ but I only hoped it would kill time.
§
When people ask me where I come from I usually respond, “from irony”, which raises more
than a few eyebrows so allow me to explain. I grew up among the orchards and vineyards of a
small southern Ontario town in a Mennonite home. However, few parts of my upbringing
fulfill the pastoral, simple or isolated images that statement implies. My sense of fashion does
not include bonnets, I only wear an apron when I’m baking and my car has an 8-cylinder
engine. In lieu of horses and buggies my Dad collects old cars. He does not earn a living
plowing a field or churning wood into solid furniture for market sale – he earns his living as
an electrician, running the very wires Old Order Mennonites and Amish shun in an effort to
disengage from the world. My father changes lightbulbs for seniors in exchange for a meal. I
recall the Christmas Eve he worked late into the night rewiring the basement of a local man
who had attempted to do the task himself and had nearly burnt down his home. For as long as
I can remember he has won contracts because his quotes always come in significantly lower
40
than those of his competitors. “Why won’t you increase your rates?” people ask. “Because
this is a fair price for the work,” he replies. “But you could make more,” they counter. “But
this is all I need.”
My mother knew from the time she was five that she wanted to be a nurse and so she was.
She served in an intensive care unit at a local hospital until she retired to engage full time in
church and service work. Unlike my father, my mother at least participates in one traditional
Mennonite activity - quilting. Her Monday night “stitch and bitch”, as she calls it, with the
other church ladies produces quilts in mass quantity. On occasion these blankets make their
way into my home but more often than not, these warm and vibrant, painstakingly stitched
quilts make their way overseas through aid agencies where they are distributed in refugee
camps. And so, while my father lights up the world, my mother warms it.
Just as I did not ‘become’ Mennonite, neither did my parents. We were born into a religious
culture that is as much an ethnicity and worldview as it is a practice of faith. All four of my
grandparents were German speaking Russian Mennonites whose families fled oppression and
religious persecution to settle and farm in the Canadian prairies. The move was a leap of faith.
It represented hope for a better life where they could live into the vastness of those wide-open
skies and explore the potential of the dancing wheat fields that seemed to stretch on forever.
My parents spent their early married years as foreign aid workers in the jungles of the Congo
serving with Habitat for Humanity and the Red Cross. Now, in their retirement, they travel the
world engaged in disaster relief work – repairing homes and communities ravaged by storms,
floods and tornados. While some people might call these disasters ‘acts of God’, it is my
parents’ actions which I understand to be as such. My parents use action over words to
demonstrate their belief to those they meet. So, I tell you that I come from irony, but I also
come from kindness, generosity and from giving. The hymns of my childhood, always sung in
beautiful 4-part harmony, asked, ‘will you let me be your servant?’ and instructed that we
should ‘walk humbly’ in the world.
While the purpose of this narrative inquiry is not to explore my childhood, my faith, cultural
heritage nor the volunteer initiatives of my parents – my Mennonite upbringing modelled to
me a very particular worldview which has impacted nearly every facet of who I have been,
41
who I am and who I will, undoubtedly, become. The tensions between this facet of my being
emerge in how I struggled with the dissolve of my marriage, understood my role as a mother,
and made choices about the work I pursued and the purpose with which I engaged in it.
Modelled to me by my family and through the community which surrounded me was one clear
and consistent message – walk humbly, give generously and show your faith through actions
over words. A life in quiet servitude to others is the greatest demonstration of faith and its
pursuit is the noblest of them all.
§
I was married the summer after I graduated from University to a man who was also raised
Mennonite, whom I had known since childhood, and whose family connections with my own
spanned three generations. We joked it was an arranged marriage but technically speaking it
was not. While my husband finished law school I enrolled in a Volunteer Management course
at St. Lawrence College where I equipped myself for a role in the Not-for-Profit sector. We
moved to Toronto to launch our careers and build a new life together - he in his Bay street
tower and I from various Foundation offices in and around the Greater Toronto Area.
I do not recall ever considering any other type of work other than that which felt like service
although I do not believe I knew quite what talent or gift I had to offer. I excelled
academically and athletically and had a deep passion for the arts but none of these skills
seemed, to me, to have any value in the service of others. I was undoubtedly creative, but I
was creative on the side and that, in my mind, was where artistic and creative pursuits
belonged. I had no models of anyone who drew upon such talents to make a living. This
unacknowledged reality settled into me and I settled into a career raising millions of dollars
for organizations which I considered valuable causes but not ones I was particularly
impassioned by. While I proved to be an effective fundraiser, a strong strategic planner and an
energetic employee, I felt far from the people I aimed to serve when my days were largely
filled with dollars and cents. The connection and engagement I had observed as a child
seemed a heavy contrast to the work I did which I rationally acknowledged to be valuable but
in my heart did not feel quite right.
42
At 26 I was pregnant with my first child and this would end my short and disimpassioned
career. Motherhood felt natural to me and it embodied everything my paid work had not.
“What did you do today?” My husband would ask when he arrived home late at night after
our daughter was asleep. “Oh, you know, nothing much, just raised a human,” I would reply,
my smile wide and my voice wavering with something resembling pride. I was hooked on
being home and raising my family. The entirety of the job description was servitude, sacrifice
and giving. This was a job I knew how to do. This was meaningful work.
By the age of 30 I had three beautiful children. I loved being a mother and I loved the
opportunity to pour all of myself into raising them. My husband continued to climb the
corporate ladder – well on track to becoming partner at a young age. I was happy to care for
our family at home and support him in his career ambition. I was happy to overlook the
loneliness of his business trips and 18-hour work days. I was happy to give in this way. This
work, while not often deemed meaningful by society, was meaningful to me – and I hoped one
day it would be to them as well. Once my husband achieved his partnership goals and the kids
were a bit older and in school, it would be my turn. Our financial security meant maybe I
could pursue work that was first and foremost meaningful and not worry so much if it was
lucrative. That was the dream. That was the promise. That was the deal.
I was 32 when my husband sat me down in the living room and handed me that letter.
Upon opening the note, I began to close into myself.
§
“It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to
know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done to feed the children.” (Oriah,1999).
Shock wreaked havoc on my body while I strapped snowsuits onto theirs. Trauma took hold
of me while I negotiated their tantrums. Anxiety fueled my body and yet I was supposed to
remember to feed the children. How does a mother so accustomed to giving continue to
function when everything around her reflects loss? There was no time and space in which to
hold this grief, in which to sit and wrestle with it and make sense of it all. The days went on as
if nothing had happened and yet nothing felt the same, least of all myself.
43
My grief was accompanied by a hefty side of shame. The community I was raised in did not
expose me to broken families and custody disputes. I could count on two fingers the number
of people I knew who were divorced. Their names were whispered as was the word “divorce”.
And yet headlines and statistics told me that divorce was commonplace. There was nothing
‘unique’ about my circumstance apart from that it had never happened to me. I was ashamed
to be so wholly rattled by something so normal. But I was rattled and the word ‘failure’ crept
into my internal dialogue like a broken record. My new family and the life ahead of me
looked both unfamiliar and unlike anything I wanted any part of. How was I supposed to
embody this new set of circumstances? How was I supposed to make this foreign story my
own?
In the sleepless nights following my husband’s departure, I wrote. At first my words were in
the form of questions - wondering letters penned to the friend and father of my children who
had broken my heart. I over analyzed every element of our relationship and tore apart every
facet of myself searching for clues and answers. What was wrong with me? How had I failed?
What could I have done differently? Had I not given enough? Some of the letters I would
send to him. Others I would not.
My writing progressed to emails where I attempted to put into sentences the cyclical whirl of
chaos by means of ‘announcing’ this change in my life to long lists of shocked family and
friends. Their responses fueled further reflection and deep probing analysis of photographs
and memories. My head ached and my thoughts spiraled all day and all night.
§
The writing class my daughter nudged me towards became my lifeline. As it turned out,
setting aside time to write meant setting aside time to be still and to be quiet. In that stillness
my swirling brain could slow down. The stories that spilled onto my page often surprised me.
While some were about my divorce or my grief – just as often stories of childhood, my rural
upbringing or my Mennonite heritage materialized in my notebook. It was strange to revisit
these old familiar places that seemed a harsh contrast to where I was now. It was jarring to
reflect upon the little girl and young woman I used to be – brimming with confidence, full of
adventure, quick to humour, oozing with potential and optimism. Who was that woman?
44
Where was she? In my writing, I could visit my former self, envy her ignorance and delight in
her dreams.
Weeks after I started the writing class, my youngest son, severely challenged in his ability
to distinguish day or time, started waking up each morning asking if it was Monday,
Thursday or “happy day”?
“What is happy day?” I asked.
“You know,” he said, gazing up at me with his big green eyes, “the day you go and write.”
I wrote every day for a year and a half. I let it consume me. I let myself disappear into my
words. I took the children to school and I wrote until I had to pick them up again. I wrote in
classes, at my desk, in my bed, on retreats, with others and on my own. I wrote for my
children, I wrote for myself and I wrote for my life.
While this might sound like a pleasant way to pass time, it was not. It was agony but I did it
anyway. Writing evoked a very physical response in my body which I slowly became familiar
with. I went through mounds of tissues and wrote to the brink of exhaustion daily. The time
after writing often left me in a dark mournful state which made for a jarring transition when it
was time to pick up the children from school. I created rituals and routines around my writing
time to help ease me in and out of the trance like state I seemed to drift into. I used scented
candles, snacks, warm tea and soft music as gateways into my writing time. I placed flowers
on my new writing desk which I perched right in front of my bedroom window where I could
see the branches of my front yard Maple stretching towards me.
I enjoyed writing about my old self but often switched my narrative voice to the third person
when talking about my current self. On rough days, I distanced myself even further and called
my character ‘Kate’. It was easier to talk about the state of Kate’s grief than it was to write
about my own.
My writing practice was fueled by a deeply rooted sense of purpose, passion and
determination but it was also peppered with guilt. I knew how deeply I wanted and needed to
write but the voice of my inner critic, alongside that of my lawyers, bankers and financial
planners rang loud and clear, “you need to get a job”. I understood this. My new life as a
45
single mother meant I needed a paycheque. “And don’t tell me you want to be an artist or a
yoga teacher” echoed the words of the mediator hired to help negotiate the terms of my
divorce. “Those are jobs for rich men’s wives and you, young lady, are no longer the wife of a
rich man.” My blood boiled, my cheeks burned red and my voice sat silently choked in my
chest. This man, in one sentence, summarized the suppression I had put upon myself for over
a decade.
My new reality did not look promising. I was told the percentage of women in my situation
who landed on their feet was small. I was on the verge of becoming a statistic. “Just marry
well,” friends advised, only half joking. Needless to say, I did not like their plans for me. I did
not like the picture they painted of my future and I did not want the life they had resigned me
to. The quotes saved to my Pinterest board kept ringing over and over again in my head,
“what are you going to do with this pain?”
For the first time in nearly a year I found myself stuck in my writing. The words wouldn’t
flow anymore and I became obsessed with editing and structure - avoiding the bigger issue. I
could not write my next chapter because I could not imagine it. The only thing I could
imagine were the scenarios that had been mapped out for me by my army of pricy
professionals. I didn’t like the way that story read or how it ended and I certainly didn’t like
the character who lived it. I didn’t want to be her.
I participated in my mandated stint with a career counsellor. Myers-Briggs, questionnaires,
and online exercises. In our final session, the counsellor sat back in her chair gazing at me
with a perplexed look on her face. “There’s something different about you.” She said, her
voice tainted with something resembling amusement. “Did you know that in all the years I
have been doing this job, you are the only person who I have asked to define success who
didn’t mention money? Not even in the top 10. You just talked about wanting to give.” I
nodded. She didn’t know me very well and she didn’t know where I came from. “Have you
thought about going back to school?”
I rode the subway home and began to prepare a Master’s application instead of my resume.
Unbeknownst to her, this woman had just planted something inside of me that felt like
permission to pursue an unconventional path forward. I was not satisfied nor content to just
46
leave my experience with writing behind – I wanted to take it with me into my future. Having
witnessed the power and potential of words in my own life, I wanted to know how I could give
this sort of healing to others. My head told me it was an indulgent and irresponsible decision.
My heart told me to do it anyways. For quite possibly the first time in my life, my heart won
out.
It was that realization that unlocked me. I returned to my writing with renewed spirit and wrote
until my voice became loud and clear, till the character on the page felt like one I might wish to
embody and until the story I was able to write looked like one I wanted to live. It is not an
exaggeration to say that I wrote myself back to life. Not the old life but a new one. I wrote a
stronger character and a happier ending. I wrote bigger dreams and a brighter future.
As I wrestled with a school application that demanded an updated resume (gulp), an
academic reference (would they remember me from 10 years ago?), a professional
reference (did I have one of those?) I kept reaching out to the Registrar’s office to ask for
exceptions.
“Will I have any chance at getting in?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, “but it’s a very competitive program.”
“Is there anything I can do to increase my chances?” I asked. “That depends,” she said and I
braced myself.
“On what?” I asked.
“On how well you can write.”
Ten months later I was buried in course work and academic readings. I combed the library
search engines late into the night, digging into research areas in which I had no background
and little right to be probing. I read everything I could get my hands on from narratology,
narrative identity, narrative psychology and finally, Pennebakers’ expressive writing
paradigm.
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Discovering a body of literature which explored the power and potential of what I had
just experienced to be true stirred within me a new sense of purpose.
“Beginning to write about a difficult experience signals that we have chosen hope rather than
despair. Conversely, when we’re in despair, if we write we become more hopeful” (DeSalvo,
1999, p.73). Writing helped me find my voice and myself, but it also helped me find hope
right when I needed it. Writing as functional, writing as hobby, writing as a tool in my
professional tool belt – those days were gone. What writing had become for me was essential.
It embodied healing and living and it was no longer something which was optional in my life.
“Did it never occur to you,” asked my therapist one day, “that writing is your way of giving?”
Expressive Writing at Work
The Impact of Expressive Writing
A few years prior to my encounter with expressive writing, another woman, Jane, who lived
just minutes down the road from me, experienced something similar. In 2012, fueled by her
own experience, Jane went on to found The Writing Centre. Since its inception, The Writing
Centre has hosted over 1350 workshops, more than 7000 writing experiences for over 875
Writers (Organizational Grant Application, 2018). I sat down with Jane in December 2018 to
discuss the origin of The Writing Centre and her own connection to expressive writing. I
paraphrase our conversation below using italics to indicate Jane’s voice.
I always loved to write. I found that writing was the one thing that could never leave me or be
taken away whereas so many things in life can be. Over time, I was able to find my strength
through writing – just privately. When I did gain that strength I was left thinking well, what
do I know? What can I do? I had a real sense of not only wanting to find myself but to do
something that was valuable for others. When you do something meaningful for others you
yourself feel good and empowered.
After that, I found Pat Schnieder, she was the founder of the AWA method, (Me: Amherst
Writers and Artists) and I studied with her and was very inspired by her - by what writing had
done, by the impact it had and by her authenticity. I met some other people who had also
studied with her and had formed organizations and they were doing really significant work
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through writing (Interview, December, 2018).
Jane ended up volunteering with some of these organization. The work of one particular
organization, which brought their work to Malawi, was particularly influential for Jane.
In Malawi we took the writing process out to villages and a secondary school for girls. We
went to one of the village schools in Malawi and we were supposed to do a little workshop for
about 40 girls. The day before our workshop, the headmaster of the school said that word had
gotten out and there would be more girls than originally anticipated. The group would be
closer to 400.
I remember that night so clearly, we stayed up sharpening pencils for all these girls and
getting all the paper we could find. The next day we walked into this room and there are all
these beautiful young girls with these huge bright smiles sitting there in their school
uniforms. We passed out the pencils and the papers and we gave them a prompt and after we
wrote they were all raising their hand and everybody wanted to express themselves and it
was amazing.
By the end of the workshop we were exhausted but the school administrator was insistent that
we all come back to the school auditorium that night to see a rehearsal for some show or
competition they were doing. So we said, alright, we will come. That evening we all got into
the van and drove back to the school and the headlights washed over the windows of the
auditorium and all of the sudden we hear this incredible applause and we’re like, “oh my
God, are the Rolling Stones coming tonight? I mean, really? I wonder what it is?” So we
walked in and 400 girls stand up - applauding and cheering as if we are celebrities. They had
come together to thank us and it was just over the top. That was the kind of response we saw
with just igniting the possibility of expression and voice. That experience had a tremendous
impact on me. It had an impact on everybody who was there.
When I returned home I thought, this is amazing. I need to do something like this here at home
(Interview, December 2018).
Jane’s experience affirmed how the power of expressive writing could cross class and
culture. She could see the need for this creative and therapeutic output and was curious
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about how writing groups in a large multicultural city might also be able to serve and bridge
gaps within and between communities while giving voice to those who often go unheard.
Jane looked for a model in the work of other individuals who had also studied under Pat
Schnieder and gone on to establish writing programs. Schneider’s AWA method identifies
five essential affirmations that were foundational truths for Jane.
1. Everyone has a strong, unique voice.
2. Everyone is born with creative genius.
3. Writing as an art form belongs to all people, regardless of economic class or
educational level.
4. The teaching of craft can be done without damage to a writer’s original voice or
artistic self-esteem. 5. A writer is someone who writes. (Schneider, 2003, p. 186)
One of the organizations that came across Jane’s radar as a possible model was the New
York Writers Coalition in New York City. The New York Writers Coalition is the largest
North American writing association and they have published over 100 anthologies of
unheard voices. Jane travelled to New York to meet with the founder and ask for his help
and advice on how to move forward in starting her own expressive writing workshops. He
encouraged Jane in her efforts and helped her to shape a vision for The Writing Centre.
Upon returning home from New York, Jane gathered a group of writer friends in her
living room and the foundation for The Writing Centre was built.
So basically, that was the origins of The Writing Centre. It came not so much from altruism,
it came from my desire to find purpose in my life (Interview, December 2018).
Transforming Lives
In the beginning, we had to wake people up. We were in the Friendship Centre with some of the
cities most marginalized populations – most were recovering from a rough night, often they
were under the influence of drugs or they had been in a fight the night before – it was a tough
crowd but I would just walk up to people and say, excuse me, would you like to come join a
writing group? And they would look at me and say, “you’ve got to be kidding” and I would say,
I’m not kidding, I bet you have stories to tell. “Nobody has stories like me,” they would
respond. “Nobody has lived the life I’ve lived.” That’s right, I would say, so come. You can
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always leave but just come in for now and write. It took us a while but eventually they did come
and they wrote – often for the first time.
There was one woman who came every week. Each week she wrote about the same thing. She
wrote about a child that had been taken from her when she was 14 years old. She had been
raped by her step-father and it was a horrible story and she kept writing it. And then one of the
staff who was helping to facilitate the workshop said, “You know, you’re always writing about
your son. Would you like to try to find him?” And well, this staff woman knew everyone in all
the social service agencies so she helped her do all the research and together they found him.
This woman now has a job and a place to live and most of all, she has a relationship with her
son.
One day as she came to the table to write she said, “You know, I used to get up in the middle
of the night to smoke crack and now I get up in the middle of the night to write”. And that was
in one of our first workshops.
While both moving and profound, this story is just one of dozens that we have been apart of
that illustrates the power and potential of writing and its ability to promote voice among those
who often go unheard (Interview, December 2018).
Measuring Success
In 2018 Kelly McShane, a clinical psychologist at Ryerson University’s School of Health
Services Management led a research team in a pilot study of The Writing Centre’s
participants and facilitators. The study was a short-term longitudinal outcome evaluation
looking to measure the impact, benefits and changes experienced by writing group
participants and facilitators during their involvement in the program. The study collected both
quantitative and qualitative data at week 1 and week 10 of workshops being offered during
the Fall of 2017 at 9 of The Writing Centre’s 20 locations. 46 workshop participants were
surveyed ranging in age from 24- 75+. The participant sample included 17 ethnic groups and
included individuals struggling with addiction or addiction recovery (30), mental health
challenges (26), survivors of violence (19), newcomers to Canada (11), those experiencing
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homelessness (9) along with seniors, caregivers, youth and members of the LGBTQ
community (McShane, Torsein & Manganaro, 2018).
“Since many of the participants in this program are from marginalized communities, the long-
term impact of the findings from this evaluation could be far-reaching. The results of this
study suggest that a therapeutic writing program is effective” (McShane, Torsein &
Manganaro, 2018, p. 18).
Benefits for Participants
The results of the study indicated that after participating in the expressive writing group
over a 10-week period attendees overwhelmingly experienced positive changes in all areas
surveyed. Both quantitative and qualitative data found personal growth for participants in
the areas listed below. Alongside each of the criteria I also offer a supporting quote drawn
from McShane’s study.
Attendees reported that participating in expressive writing workshops left them
feeling development and growth in the areas of:
▪ Hope – “I feel more powerful than before. I acquired a more powerful
writing/creative voice and by strengthening that, I got a more powerful personal
voice” (p. 25)
▪ Well-being – “It is much easier to not feel isolated when in a group. Feelings of
well- being have replaced them” (p.22)
▪ Resilience – “I was a resilient person to begin with having overcome addiction and
mental health issues. Many of the topics help me to reflect on that and to never ever
go back to it” (p. 26).
▪ Creative empowerment – “more creative and imaginative way to expand self in
writing” (p.21)
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▪ Leadership – “the program made me want to become a bigger member of
the community” (p. 27).
▪ Self-esteem – “I feel more confident due to the positive responses to my work. I have
gained a stronger sense of self-worth…have been able to be myself and be vulnerable
and accepted” (p.24)
▪ Mood –“I have been able to express so many feelings; I needed that because I came
in repressing many feelings. Through (writing) I got to express pain, love, hurt, guilt,
love, and hope” (p. 22-23)
▪ Sense of community – “These folks are my ‘misfits of literary agents’. These folks
are more family than my family. I look forward to seeing my family” (p. 27)
▪ Writing skills - “I participate in the writing workshop with the intent to spend more
time writing, getting published and have my voice make a difference” (p.21)
▪ Connection – “I feel connected especially during the sharing and feedback. Even the
act of writing quietly with others doing the same feels connecting” (p.22)
▪ Distress and stress levels – “a healthy way to cope with my addiction” (p.21)
(McShane, Torsein & Manganaro, 2018).
Benefits for Facilitators
Writing group facilitators also noted improvements in their own lives in the areas of:
▪ Satisfaction – “watching participants blossom both socially and with their
writing” (p.28)
▪ Sense of purpose – “I feel that I’m doing something worthwhile and that is
very humbling and satisfying” (p. 30)
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▪ Empathy – “It made me less judgmental and has made me more respectful for my
fellow writers. It has made me a better person” (p. 29)
▪ Skill and professional development – “importance of creating a safe and relaxed
space of deep listening and how it empowers individuals to pursue their strengths and
interests. Little hints of humility. Learning when to stay silent, when not to fill a space
or pause to let others fill the space” (p.29)
▪ Sense of accomplishment – “I’ve been helped to see the importance and potential
of small groups and collectives empowering therapeutic tools for building
individuals and empowering their place in a community” (p.29)
It is worth mentioning that 9 of the 15 facilitators who took part in the study originally served
as participants (McShane, Torsein & Manganaro, 2018).
Summary of Findings
This chapter explores the experience and impact of expressive writing programs in the lives
of individuals. It examines the transformative impact of writing in my life and also in the
lives of expressive writing group participants. In doing so, it demonstrates the potential of
expressive writing as a non-clinical tool for mental health intervention and a candidate for
further exploration as an innovative, cost-effective solution as called for in The Lancet
Commission. This chapter answers the research question – in what ways is program success
measured?
Drawing upon data collected through the self-narrative inquiry, the testimonials of individuals
(attendees and facilitators) who have participated in expressive writing groups offered by The
Writing Centre, interview notes, and the pilot evaluation study conducted by McShane et. al
(2018), I clearly identify three indicators of program success. The three indicators are
personal development and growth, development of a writing practice, and sense of
purpose/call to action.
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Personal development and growth
Expressive writing prompted a reconciliation between the expectations I had for my life and
my new reality. Writing about my past helped me rediscover parts of myself that were difficult
to see or feel in my groggy grief state. Writing provided clarity and a place to imagine a path
forward. Resting in between the beginning of my story and the next chapter was a big blank
space for me to wrestle with the tensions of who I was and who I wanted to become. The page
was a safe place to explore different paths and different parts of myself. The writing process
guided me in a cycle of reflection, revision and reimagining that was accompanied by an
enhanced sense of self and the rediscovery of hope for my future.
When an individual finds transformation, healing or perceives an improvement in mental,
physical or emotional self the writing practice has been successful. Success of this nature
is usually articulated by the individual through their writing or in the group but even
when left unarticulated it is generally evident through increased confidence, mood
improvement, and outlook on life and the future.
Development of a writing practice
My reliance on writing as a tool for navigating complex emotions to this day is no secret.
When struggling to make sense of a life situation, feeling overwhelmed or out of sorts, those
who know me best will always ask, “have you been writing?” Alongside my fitness regime
and the support of my therapist – writing is a tool I draw upon regularly to help manage
lingering anxiety. I cannot imagine a future where I am not a member of a writing group or
making space in my week to write. The flexibility and portability of writing make it a reliable
and constant companion.
As humans, we live storied lives. Stories are how we come to know both ourselves and one
another - they help us makes sense of our past and imagine our future. The act of writing these
stories helps individuals to find a stronger sense of self, voice and hope. Writes Beattie (2007,
p. 175), “Narrative ways of thinking, knowing, and representing what is known have been with
us for a long time and narrative as a form of communication has been with us since the
beginning of language.” Story, and the ability to communicate it through language, is what
makes us uniquely human.
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An ongoing writing practice indicates the experience has been successful or rewarding for
the individual. They come to understand writing not just as a communication tool between
themselves and others but also between their emotional and rational self. The writing
practice becomes a tool for making sense of the evolving events in their lives and a
supportive intervention that can be practiced alone or in groups.
Sense of purpose/call to action
It is not a coincidence that 9 of the 15 facilitators who took part in McShane’s study of The
Writing Centre began their involvement with expressive writing as group participants. It is not
a coincidence that I study expressive writing after having experienced it in my own life nor is
it a coincidence that Jane was so inspired by her encounter with expressive writing that she
went on to create an organization that would introduce the process to thousands of individuals
across the greater Toronto area. It is because we were impacted and transformed by our
experience that we felt called to act and pass these skills on to others. This is the final step
outlined in Mezirow’s transformative learning cycle – the call to act in light of the new
knowledge acquired. The Writing Centre bases its entire model on training participants to
become leaders within their own community as a true testament to the success of their work.
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Chapter 5 The Role of the Facilitator
This chapter deals with the role of the facilitator in an expressive writing group and looks to
answer the research question – How are non-specialist, volunteer facilitators selected,
trained, and supported as writing group leaders? The first part of this chapter consists of a
narrative inquiry probing my personal experience as a participant in a writing group and my
experience with the group facilitator.
Following this narrative inquiry, I further explore the role of an expressive writing group
facilitator by analyzing organizational materials, training resources provided by The Writing
Centre and highlighting information gained through the interview with The Writing Centre’s
Founder and Board President. To analyze this data I rely upon the key strategies for teaching
transformation as summarized by Cranton (2002) to provide a framework for both the
narrative and subsequent data analysis. The strategies include: creating activating events;
helping participants to identify and articulate assumptions; encouraging critical reflection;
creating an openness to alternatives; encouraging discourse alongside discussion; supporting
learners as they revise assumptions and perspectives; creating experiential learning
opportunities for participants to take their thoughts, ideas and inspiration outside the group
setting. I then summarize the findings of this chapter to highlight critical elements of the
facilitator role in an expressive writing group.
Facilitating Hope
They didn’t call her a teacher, they called her a ‘coach’. It sounded trendy and I was
immediately put off but I signed up for that writing class anyways. One, because it was the
first listing that appeared after my Google search for “writing classes near me”. Two, because
they served a snack in every class. As a single mother, no one ever served me anything apart
from dirty laundry and field trip forms, so snack and tea was enough to lure me in. I submitted
my online participant form and necessary deposit the same day.
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A few weeks later I navigated my way across the city by subway and bus, knocked on the
side door of a large red-brick home, jingled past an orange and brown beaded curtain and
wondered how I could possibly find inspiration or voice in this boldly outfitted bohemian
apartment.
“Welcome, find a seat! It’s so nice to meet you.”
Danielle, the writing coach, spoke in a raspy booming voice and snorted uproariously when I
made a snide comment about my arrival. Everything about her smile and gaze felt genuine
and I felt my shoulders slowly slip away from my ears. The room filled with eight other
women. I tucked myself into one corner of the sofa, not wanting to take up too much space,
and pulled out the notebook I had purchased for my first class.
We introduced ourselves and Danielle provided us with a set of ground rules for our writing
time together. The rules focused largely on confidentiality, how to offer feedback, and the
expectations of participants to read their work and respond to one another. She poured each of
us tea and I wondered when the snack would be brought out.
We wrote to a few prompts such as, ‘write about your favourite teacher’, ‘write a letter to your
14-year old self’ or even things like ‘what scares me most is’ and ‘if I’m honest, I’d have to
say’. We wrote in response to poems, participated in a couple of activities involving paint
colour chips, images from magazines and a lump of clay. We shared each piece we wrote out
loud. I was surprised when Danielle shared too and that she was open to hearing our feedback
on her work. We were encouraged to keep our feedback about the writing and we all offered
comments on what we liked in each piece. The invitation to feedback was always, “What did
you hear? What did you love?”
It had been a long time since I had written and I felt self-conscious about my work. I also had
fears of harsh criticism and worried about whether my grammar and spelling were correct.
But no one ever looked at my page. We shared our work by reading it out loud. No one
checked for punctuation in my prose – their feedback focused on the words I chose, the story
I wove and the characters that emerged on my page.
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The prompts Danielle offered drew out stories that surprised me. Memories I hadn’t thought of
in years were resurfacing each week. I wrote about growing up in a small town, being raised in
a conservative Mennonite home, moving away to boarding school at 16, how it felt to become
a mother, the devastation of miscarriage, how I used to feel about my husband, the sting of
rejection and fear for my future.
I usually cried when reading aloud. Sometimes other people cried when I read aloud too. I
was amazed at how my stories impacted others. I was surprised to see them nodding along,
heads lowered and eyes softly closed. I was touched when they laughed and came to
understand that silence after a piece wasn’t a sign that my words had not resonated but quite
often meant the opposite.
“Look” said Danielle to the group, “There are always tissues on the table but let’s not
assume tears need to be wiped away. Tears are welcome here. If you want a tissue, grab it.
If you want someone else to read your piece for you, that’s ok. If you want to choke and snot
your way through it – we are here to listen to your story in whatever form it comes out.”
As the weeks rolled on and my first writing workshop came to an end I felt a bit anxious. I
was uncertain I would continue to write on my own so I signed up for a second workshop
where I could continue to write in the safety of a group.
“Another classic Shelley piece!” Danielle proclaimed one week.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Your voice, it’s strong and unique. You make us laugh and you carry us along on these
ridiculous adventures with this character that we can’t help but root for and then you just slay
us with a one liner at the end that is all heart, dissolves us to tears and leaves us wondering
what happens next. It’s so cinematic” Danielle said.
I was intrigued.
“You think my voice is strong?”
Strong was not a word I had used to describe myself in a long time.
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“Absolutely! Strong is an understatement” Danielle said, “you need to keep writing. You
have a story in you and you need to get it out onto the page.”
Danielle’s encouragement made my writing feel necessary instead of frivolous. Her feedback
on my writing often inspired my next piece and her prompts and questions about my
characters and stories were the nudge I needed to keep digging around my past in a way that
felt intimately linked to my future. Often when I wrote, I felt ideas and sentiments ‘click’ into
place. Writing about childhood or adolescents often unlocked a part of me that I had forgotten
and those characteristics would infiltrate my thoughts and writing about the present.
My initial feelings of dread over sharing my writing with others slowly eased away and I
began to feel comfortable and even confident at times as I spoke my words and my stories to
an intimate room of strangers. Danielle made me feel safe. The group made me feel
supported. My writing made me feel whole.
“Have you thought about what you might like to do with your work? Sharing it with family
and friends? Maybe attending an open mic night? Publishing?”
Danielle nudged me to consider my writing not just as a private endeavour but a public art form
– something I had not considered in a long time. Slowly I began sharing my writing with
family and friends and even submitting a few pieces for publication to various magazines and
journals when I felt safe to do so. It took a while to see the rejection of my pieces as a
rejection of my work and not me or my story. Danielle helped me to see the bravery in
putting my voice out there and helped me place a distance between my experience with
writing and its place in the world. When a few pieces did find publication or were read by
friends and family I found the experience enriching not because of notoriety but because of
the way I could connect with people through my page.
Becoming a Facilitator
As my experience illustrates, for many of us the journey to our words, to calling ourselves
“writers” and recognizing the functions writing might play in our lives, has been difficult.
As human beings we live storied lives, and on the page we can rewrite new endings and
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new beginnings that become the foundations upon which we build our futures. This work
benefits from the support and guidance of a coach, mentor or facilitator.
To further understand the role of the facilitator in an expressive writing group I first explore
the process of becoming one with The Writing Centre. I examine the application process and
design of the training program to identify characteristics and criteria for suitability to the role
before exploring the significance of facilitators in guiding the writing experience for both the
group and individual.
To become a facilitator with The Writing Centre, volunteers submit an application form
which inquires about:
▪ availability
▪ language abilities/fluencies
▪ past volunteer experience
▪ relationship to and experience with expressive and/or creative writing
▪ comfort with sharing vulnerable personal stories
▪ inquiries about the applicant’s beliefs on the distinction between teaching/leading
and facilitation
▪ asks about the applicants understanding of what a safe space is and how it can be created
▪ populations the applicant might be interested in working with
Prospective volunteers are asked if they are open to police checks (some partner
organizations require them and others do not) and are required to participate in an extensive
training and support program. This program includes:
▪ reading and familiarizing themselves with Pat Schneider’s book Writing Alone and
With Others which outlines the Amherst Writers and Artists (AWA) method which
The Writing Centre programs are based upon
▪ a full weekend of training (Friday – Sunday)
▪ attendance at meetings of workshop facilitators to share best practices
▪ regular correspondence with the Program Manager
▪ commitment to facilitate a minimum of 10, 90-minute workshops
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Not all volunteer applicants are accepted into the program. Preference is given to those with:
availability to facilitate workshops; experience in writing groups; a history of community
involvement; ties to the community they wish to serve; facilitation, leadership or teaching
experience; a commitment to and understanding of The Writing Centre’s philosophy of
creating a respectful and positive environment.
Graduating facilitators work alongside experienced facilitators and begin co-leading
workshops shortly after training is completed. Training weekends run several times a year
and are experiential in nature. They allow volunteers to gain an understanding of The
Writing Centre’s philosophy and values, learn best practices and become familiar with
essential practices. Volunteers learn strategies for successful facilitation, including how to
create a safe community in which to write and share; how to manage community dynamics;
and how to adapt the workshop to meet the needs of individuals and groups. Model
workshop sessions offer the volunteers a supportive environment in which to practice
facilitation skills.
After receiving their training, volunteers are assigned to an organization where they co-
facilitate a 10-week program. Each workshop is co-led by two or more volunteers. Facilitators
are partnered for flexibility in scheduling and to benefit one another with their range of
experience. Ongoing support and supervision ensures the workshop experience is positive and
successful for the writer participants, facilitators and agency partners.
Facilitation in Practice
To examine the work of facilitators in expressive writing groups I draw upon data collected
through The Writing Centres’ facilitator manual, reflections on my training and practice as a
facilitator, impact statements from facilitators found in the McShane et. al (2018) pilot study
and my interview with Jane. I organize this material into the categories articulated by Cranton
in exploring the process of facilitating a transformative learning experience.
Creating Activating Events
It is the role of the facilitator to provide writing prompts for the workshop and dictate how
long writers will respond to each prompt. Writing prompts are all around us. Writing can be
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stimulated by objects, colours, memories, images and photographs, song lyrics, quotes,
clichés, or even music. A few sample prompts include:
▪ I remember when….
▪ Write about a secret you’ve kept from someone
▪ Think of an object you carry or keep. Why do you hold on to it?
▪ What scares you?
▪ Write about a promise you have made or one that was made to you
▪ What do you wish others knew about you?
▪ Write a piece of advice to your future self
▪ If I could do it all over again I would…
Prompts should be given to the group as suggestions only. The important thing is that people
write, not what they write. Writing time can vary in length (eg. 5min/15 min per prompt). It is
the role of the facilitator to set the time allowance for each prompt and to give fair warning to
the group as writing time comes to an end.
Triggering
Given the range of vulnerable populations The Writing Centre works with, some partner
organizations are concerned with prompts or stories which might trigger members of the
group. By triggering I mean causing a participant to feel emotional distress related to
memories of a traumatic event in their past. I asked Jane how The Writing Centre approaches
triggering when negotiating agreements with partner organizations and also how they
prepare non-specialist volunteers for such events in their workshops.
Our policy is not to say anything about triggering because we really want to encourage
exploration and risk taking. Triggering does come up on occasion and usually you’re in an
organization and you have two facilitators so you always have one who can ask “Are you
ok? Would you like to step out? Would you like to write a different prompt?” And you are
always free to write whatever it is you desire and you never have to write to a specific
prompt. So those are some of the things but no, we feel its infringing to worry someone at the
beginning saying “please watch out for triggers” (Interview, December 2018).
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Add’s The Writing Centre’s board President:
I guess in places like an addiction crisis centre - they have all these concerns about triggering
people but once it actually happens they are like “wow, this is the best thing we have ever
seen” because it works (Interview, December, 2018).
I asked him to elaborate further. Jane jumped in to say that the experience of the writing
groups and facilitators is that when a writing prompt triggers a traumatic memory for a
participant that is where the healing begins. Opening the wound is, in large part, the purpose of
expressive writing so to have policies and agreements with organizations saying that it won’t
happen is counter- productive. Of additional concern to some is that perhaps it is not the
prompt which triggers a participant but another writers story.
I have been a participant in writing groups that ask all writers to identify potentially
triggering content before they read a piece. Violence, sex, abuse, language are often
examples given. This gives other group members a chance to step away from the table before
the piece is read. While this is not the practice of The Writing Centre it is of some other
groups. From my own experience there can be harm caused both ways. When someone
leaves the room before you share your story that can inflict upon the reader a sense of shame
around their lived experience which can be harmful for the writer and may restrict what they
feel they can write and share in the group. I raise this point as it highlights another
challenging issue with operating expressive writing groups – especially with vulnerable
populations – and that is censorship.
Censorship
I will not engage in a lengthy debate surrounding censorship and the arts but rather identify it
as an area for further study in the context of expressive writing groups. There is a delicate
balance between creating a safe community environment where everyone feels welcome and
putting limitations on what can be written and shared. Further analysis on the potential for
causing harm or re-traumatizing participants by having such loose policies in this area are
worthy of further study.
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Says Jane:
We aren’t politically correct. We don’t want to be politically correct. That’s the power of
our forum.
So (censorship) is a big thing….people (organizations) want us to state that we won’t tolerate
any homophobic or racist or sexist comments…we believe in free speech and non-censorship
and don’t want to impose that upon a creative form…so we’re grappling with that (Interview,
December, 2018).
Jane articulates the challenges faced by censorship in expressive writing groups attempting
to provide a safe place for participants to talk about their lived experiences openly and
honestly while making everyone feel welcome. She speaks about the human rights element,
liability and the challenge of putting limitations on freedom of speech.
You really have to be careful about the authenticity of voice if you’re going to put limits on it
in a creative forum like this (Interview, December, 2018).
I asked Jane if she could give me an example of how she or another facilitator has addressed
such a situation or how they prepare facilitators to manage writing where offensive language
or comments arise.
Jane offered the example of a participant who shared a piece of writing about her childhood
that used racist and offensive language. When challenged by another group member over her
word choices she replied, “my father was a racist and if I’m going to paint a portrait of my
father it’s going to have those words in it, it’s going to have that stuff in it and its going to be
extremely offensive. I hated that I grew up that way but that’s an honest depiction. So am I
not allowed to say that?”
The Writing Centre’s board President offers his own feedback on this difficult issue,
“that’s a place where the feedback is something like ‘the character in that story is offensive
– not you – the character is saying things that I’m really finding offensive’.
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Adds Jane, “or (we might say) something like ‘how strong that writing was that we could find
the character so offensive – that they could impact us so deeply’… So you call it out, you never
let it sit there…and perhaps for the person they go ‘really?’ and it’s a revelation”
I read something by Pat Schneider about that…you want to give the freedom to be honest. If
you don’t like the voice that’s ok but its honest, it’s real – that’s their voice. But when these
things come up, then we address it and we address the consequences of this kind of
expression
(Interview, December 2018).
Helping Participants Identify and Articulate Assumptions & Encouraging
Critical Reflection
Facilitators help participants identify and articulate assumptions and engage in critical self-
reflection through the feedback they offer and mediate after participants read their written
work aloud. Feedback serves as a mirror reflecting back to the writer showing what was
strong in their piece by hearing what resonated with the audience or group when they read.
While many people have never been formally instructed on how to offer feedback, that is a
primary function of the facilitator in an expressive writing group. The facilitator is heavily
trained in how to offer feedback and is expected to teach, model and mediate these practices
for the group. The Writing Centre, through its training sessions and facilitator manual,
suggests the following practices as essential in offering feedback in an expressive writing
group:
▪ The work you will hear is first draft writing. It is not edited and may never be.
Feedback on first draft writing should be offered orally. This initial response to the
writing is generally more reader based feedback than criterion based. It should focus
on what is strong in the writing and only offer opportunities for growth if/when the
writer indicates a readiness to engage in that process. Pen to paper grammatical edits
should not take place until a piece is in its final stages if at all and only at the request
of the writer.
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▪ Focus on what you hear and what you love in the writing and the voice of the
narrator. The only feedback worth giving is that which encourages people to keep
writing.
▪ Keep it about the writing – Engaging participants in writing about their lives is
vulnerable and emotional work. To encourage this sort of writing, the participant
must know that any feedback offered is on the writing and not directed towards the
character, situation or response to a set of circumstances presented in the piece.
▪ Avoid offering self-reflection as feedback. When you hear a piece of writing that
resonates with you, it is easy for feedback to shift into personal anecdotes. Avoid
this.
Stay focused on feedback that is useful for the writer who has just shared their work –
tell them they have made a connection and how they achieved it (eg. active verbs,
strong dialogue, great description).
Example of self-reflection as feedback: “The part with the dog was so sad. It
reminded me of my first dog, Coco, who was so sweet. I remember how gutting it
was when she died. My mom and dad took her to the vet while I was at school and I
had no idea until I came home that afternoon and and and…”
Instead try: “The part of the story where the dog died really resonated with me. It
stirred up all sorts of emotions and I could really relate to the character’s pain in that
moment.”
▪ Treat all writing as fiction – This is a practice used by The Writing Centre but not in
all expressive writing workshops I have participated in. I was very skeptical of it at
first since it’s an unnatural way to respond to a piece when you just sat beside the
writer as they wrote it.
States the organizations training material:
Amid quite intimate writings, we meet each other in an environment of safety.
Through this practice, writers are free to stay true to a story without freezing
around what they can’t (or haven’t yet learned how to) remember; they are free
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not to remember clearly and to write anyways, to interweave autobiography and
myth and dream and song and question. When we respond to one another’s
writing as fiction, writers are able to take more risk, freeing powerful intimate,
vulnerable work.
Still sometimes it becomes important for a participant to claim their story as
their own. (The organization) respects the freedom of writers to own their
stories as auto-biography or memoir if it is significant for the writer to do so.
However, it is always paramount to keep the focus on the writing, not the writer.
This practice can be summed up quite simply. No feedback ever includes the word
“you”. The reference is to ‘the writer’ or ‘the narrator’. The distance created between
author and character in this practice is essential to its success and integral to creating
an environment for this sort of personal writing to be created and shared.
Writes Schneider (2003) on the importance of treating all work as fiction, “I cannot
stress too strongly how important this is. Only when all work is given the dignity of
being treated as literature, as separate from the life story of the writer, can a group of
writers be truly free to write about anything” (p. 239).
For example, you would not say: “I love the way you told that guy where to put it!”
Instead: “The dialogue the writer used really emphasizes the strength of the character.”
It takes practice to offer feedback in this way and most will stumble at first. The role of
the facilitator is to gently correct and to model good practice. This distancing strategy
aims to maintain a safe-space for all participants to share freely. It would be worthwhile
to study how integral this particular component is to the success of the workshop and its
impact on the individuals who may be navigating trauma in their lives.
Encouraging Discourse Alongside Discussion
While no one is obligated to share their writing, every participant in the group is encouraged
to share after every write. Additionally, every participant is also encouraged to provide
feedback on the piece that has been shared in accordance with the feedback methods taught
to the group and modelled by the facilitator. This gives every participant an opportunity to
have their voice heard and equal opportunity to receive feedback on their writing. This
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includes the facilitator who writes, shares, receives and offers feedback alongside everyone
else.
Group members are welcome to offer positive feedback on what was strong in the writing but
not on the content or character of the individual who has shared. While at times discussion
ensues as a result of the written work of a group member, it is the role of the facilitator to
ensure the conversation stays focused on the writing and affirming of its author.
Critique and edits are only offered to a writer if they are requested. If this is the case they are
offered as suggestions and are framed as opportunities to enhance the piece not as corrections to
the authors work.
Creating an Openness to Alternatives & Supporting Learners as they Revise
Assumptions and Perspectives
There is power in sharing your story and in hearing the lived experience of others. Deeply
listening to one another’s life experiences often challenges the assumptions we hold. The
facilitator holds a role in modelling deep listening, thoughtful reflection and reactions to the
shared pieces of writing. These responses demonstrate a willingness to see things in new
ways and creates a safe space for participants to wrestle with their own assumptions.
Additionally, over the course of a writing group session, a writer often explores the same
memory or theme over and over again. Different prompts will encourage writers to wrestle
with a theme from different perspectives. As a facilitator, you can support writers in their
growth and exploration by commenting on the shifts and development reflected in their
writing – encouraging them to keep looking at the events. Recalling the significance of
narrative identity discussed earlier in this paper – when a writer is frequently revisiting a topic
or life event it is often a sign that this was a disruptive moment in their narrative and they are
attempting to situate or make sense of it. Encouraging this exploration can prove very
rewarding for the participant.
It is worth noting that facilitators, as co-participants also experience shifts and growth as a
result of their time with the group. Consider some of the following testimonials from
facilitators offered in the pilot study by McShane et. al. (2018).
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Facilitating “gave me purpose and connection with the community”
“I am always energized inspired and also relieved and more relaxed (less anxious)
after facilitating a writing group”
“It made me less judgemental and has made me more respectful for my fellow writers.
It has made me a better person”
I have learned “the art of real listening, just real listening”
“No matter what other things were going on in my life I always looked forward to
coming here” (29).
Creating Experiential Learning Opportunities for Participants to Take Their
Thoughts, Ideas and Inspiration Outside the Group Setting
Beginning to write is simply the start for many participants in an expressive writing group.
Some individuals have goals for growth that relate to their writing itself while others have
goals related to growth in other areas of their personal life (healing, overcoming addiction,
repairing relationships, pursuing new professional opportunities).
For those participants looking to develop and explore writing as an art form – The Writing
Centre publishes a newsletter which profiles the work of participants, publishes an anthology
of participant work, showcases writers at fundraisers and community events, and on their
website. Facilitators may also draw attention to opportunities for participants to connect to
the broader writing and publishing community.
For participants whose writing leads them towards other opportunities for personal
development and growth, facilitators can serve as a resource or connection to other agency
services. One of the greatest benefits to the workshop model created by The Writing Centre is
that they operate writing groups within the existing structure of community groups and
service centres. This means facilitators have access to, and establish relationships with, staff
and personnel who are trained to provide professional services and support outside the writing
group.
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Summary of Findings
This chapter explores the role of the facilitator in an expressive writing group. In doing do it
questions the potential of volunteer non-specialists as mental health support service providers
as suggested as essential in addressing the global mental health crisis. It answers the research
question – How are non-specialist, volunteer facilitators selected, trained, and supported as
writing group leaders? Data was collected through the self-narrative inquiry probing my
experience as a writing group participant as well as my training and experience as a facilitator
with The Writing Centre. Additionally, I relied upon organizational materials (website,
application forms, training manual and materials), the testimonials of individual facilitators as
articulated in the pilot evaluation study conducted by McShane et. al (2018), and interview
notes with The Writing Centre’s founder and board president. I summarize my findings to
each element of the research question below.
Characteristics of an Expressive Writing Group Facilitator
Expressive writing is difficult and often emotional work. While it can be done alone, having a
guide to support and encourage participants through the practice is, in my experience,
invaluable. Alongside the snacks my writing coach, Danielle rewarded me with each week, her
witnessing of my hard work was affirming. She could hear things in my words that I often
could not. Her deep listening to my story was both humbling and empowering. Her feedback
mirrored and magnified the strength and courage that I was beginning to find on my page and
the sense of accountability I felt towards her instilled a deeper sense of commitment to the
process. As a facilitator, Danielle made me feel heard, supported me in finding my unique
voice and encouraged me in finding places to share it. In harsh opposition to the grammarians
many of us encountered in our early classroom writing days, expressive writing facilitators
play more of a caregiving role in what is often a healing journey.
Successful facilitators serve as models and mentors for participants. They are organized and
come prepared with a clear plan for each workshop. The facilitator works to create a safe and
welcoming environment. They offer stimulating prompts and share resources freely with
participants. Facilitators educate members of the writing group on essential practices and
policies and keep members accountable to these guidelines. Facilitators practice engaged
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listening and offer meaningful and supportive feedback to their fellow writers. They
participate as equal members of the group taking the same risks and evoking the same
vulnerabilities as everyone else. Consistent attendance by the facilitator is important to
strengthen and deepen connection while also demonstrating a level of commitment to the
group.
Ideally the facilitator has existing ties to a particular community to which they belong or feel
called to serve. The Writing Centre encourages long time participants to grow into this role
over time and serve as facilitators within their own community. Facilitators are encouraged to
develop relationships with staff at the partner organizations in which they serve to share
knowledge and support.
Training the Facilitator
I will explore my own experience with being trained as a facilitator in the chapter which
follows but can affirm that this process is integral to the success of the group and the
experience of each participant. Facilitators uphold the integrity of the writing practice. They
must command the respect of the group, model the level of respect they demand, and
simultaneously demonstrate the same level of vulnerability they ask participants to risk.
When training an expressive writing facilitator, one needs to emphasize not only the essential
practices but also the rationale for why they are essential. The policies and practices
surrounding triggering, censorship, feedback, listening and confidentiality (which will be
explored further in chapter 6) are integral to upholding the integrity of the group and the
experience of participants.
Having facilitators engage in exercises that simulate situations encountered around the writing
table are invaluable. Asking experienced facilitators about challenges they have encountered
and their approach to addressing the issue helps new facilitators anticipate and prepare for the
role.
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Supporting the Facilitator
Facilitators are witnesses to people’s confessions and vulnerabilities. They hear haunting
realities and bear witness to painful prose alongside moments of healing and growth.
Supporting the facilitator is essential to prevent burnout and ensure the health and well-
being of those performing what is, in essence, a caregiving role.
At The Writing Centre, Facilitators are supported in their work by countless resources
including sample workshop templates and an appendix full of prompts and poems to inspire
good writing. They are also equipped with human resources in the form of mentors and peer
partnerships.
Facilitators are encouraged to develop relationships with program staff within their partner
organization to strengthen ties and gain professional resources related to the populations they
serve. There are social and writing based opportunities for facilitators to connect with one
another. Additionally, The Writing Centre is looking to develop ongoing training programs
for experienced facilitators to connect, improve, refresh and build upon their skills and also
bring forward any issues or best practices gained from their experience facilitating
expressive writing workshops.
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Chapter 6 The Writing Group
This chapter deals with the benefits of practicing expressive writing in a group and the
policies and practices that are essential to establishing such a community. This chapter
answers the research questions - how does an expressive writing group operate? What
practices, principals and procedures are in place and what are they based upon? As in
previous chapters, I open with a narrative inquiry probing my experience as a writing group
facilitator before offering further insight into questions drawn from the case study.
Serving as data for this chapter are The Writing Centre’s facilitator training materials, website,
organizational planning documents and grant applications as well as interview transcripts and
my personal experience as a participant and a facilitator in expressive writing workshops. I
also refer to Pat Schneiders (2003) AWA method as outlined in Writing Alone and With
Others. To analyze this data I rely upon the criteria for creating a transformative learning
environment as articulated by Mezirow (1997) which include: establishing a safe and
welcoming space for participants; providing equal opportunities to participation; ensuring
ideal conditions for discourse; presenting the facilitator as a participant and co-learner rather
than authority figure; building a self-directive environment. Following this analysis, I
summarize the findings of the chapter to highlight critical policies and practices in building
and sustaining an expressive writing group.
Growing a Community of Writers
“We are all connected to one another and to the mystery of the universe through
our strange and marvelous ability to create words. When we write, we create, and
when we offer our creation to one another, we close the wounds of loneliness and
may participate in healing the broken world. Our words, our truth, our imagining,
our dreaming, may be the best gifts we have to give” (Schneider, 2003, p. xix).
Fueled by my experience and academic studies in expressive writing, I began looking for
opportunities to put my learning into practice as my first year of course work came to an end. I
applied to train and serve as a writing group facilitator with The Writing Centre - an
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organization whose mere existence had not been known to me a year prior. After an initial
interview and vigorous training program, I was partnered with an experienced facilitator to
help lead a workshop at a community resource centre.
I was asked to co-facilitate in an established workshop based on my availability and program
need. The workshop was ongoing and open to all - there was no obligation for participants to
come each week and they did not need to sign up or register in any formal way. In my first
session, I wandered into the lobby 15 minutes early and lined up at reception. Friendly
program staff introduced themselves, showed me where to sign in each week, asked if I
needed a parking permit for their small lot and walked me into a bright and sunny basement
where the writing group gathered.
The space was large and had rows of tables spread out from an art group that had met earlier
in the day. I slid a few tables together and arranged chairs to create an intimate space for a
group of about 8-12 participants. I noticed a side table had been set up with a water jug, fresh
pot of coffee, and a package of store bought cookies. Joanne, the program staff who greeted
me, said the refreshments had been put out for the writing group. I pulled out my notebook,
prompts, and extra pens and paper in case participants needed them. I laid out copies of the
workshop guidelines so we could review them and in case there were new participants this
week who wanted a copy to keep.
My co-facilitator arrived a few minutes after I finished setting up. Prior to the workshop we
had agreed to prepare two prompts each. I would also provide an opening exercise – a land
acknowledgement and brief meditation exercise to help participants settle into the space. Our
plan was to keep the opening short and get to the writing as quickly as possible respecting
that people were coming to write not listen to us talk.
As participants trickled into the room I introduced myself, offered refreshments and ensured
everyone had a pen and piece of paper. I nodded my agreement as they vented the stresses of
transit, construction and the general frustration often associated with simply arriving. I jotted
down names on a piece of paper so that I could refer to everyone during the workshop.
We started on time to respect those in the room knowing not everyone would be prompt. Sure
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enough what started as a group of 5 grew to a group of 8 or 9 ten minutes in. We reviewed
the ground rules and my co-facilitator, Patty, provided the first prompt – write about a
childhood memory – suggesting we write for 10 minutes.
The scratch of pens, shift of chairs and shuffle of paper filled the room as heads bowed and we
wrote together. Patty gave us a 2-minute warning as time wore down and then asked who
might like to share first. John, an older gentleman with a long braid down his back said he
would. He read us a story about growing up on the East Coast of Canada near a native reserve
and a young boy’s constant interest in a culture that was at once so close and yet so far from
his own experience of childhood. John’s eyes stared off into space after he read as if looking
for home. We offered feedback on what we loved in John’s piece. I had been especially moved
by the vivid description of a rugged landscape and the details used by the narrator to transport
me into a different time and place. John painted with words an entire world that appeared like
a Group of Seven painting in my minds eye.
Carla offered to go next but prefaced her reading by expressing fear that her writing was
‘simple’ compared to everyone else’s. Her broken English mingled with Spanish as she
described the daily chores she was asked to perform in her family home. What she considered
an intrusion of her mother tongue felt seamless and lyrical. I couldn’t have imagined hearing
the story without being let in through the regional slang and poetic fusion of two languages.
Newton read us a very technical and orderly piece on the lessons he had learned growing up
in India. I could only glimpse a peak at the tiny precise scrawl in his notebook but saw that
his piece was written in list format. I would later learn he had a science background and was
an aspiring blogger. He wrote factually and to the point. I loved the certainty of the writer’s
voice and the instructional tone felt comforting, oozing wisdom.
Patty offered a story of a little girl learning to ride her first bicycle. Daniel read a story about
the love of a first pet. I wrote a comical piece about myself as an overly keen kindergartener.
Kyle, who was a regular and long-time attendee read a piece that was no more than a
paragraph long. He stumbled over his barely legible handwriting, his voice barely audible and
containing a slight stutter. In the span of a short paragraph the narrator depicted a young boy
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peering into his four-year old sister’s bedroom, watching powerlessly as she was raped by
their father.
We wrote in response to two more prompts that day, each of us sharing, offering and
receiving feedback on our voices as they emerged and the power of the words that we put
onto the page. Sometimes prompts drew out light hearted memories. Other times they hit on
the pulse of something darker, more painful or deeper – like they had for Kevin.
After the workshop, a few participants lingered. Some left together. Others said they were
planning to attend a meal program down the street if they could find transit fare. I debriefed
the workshop with Patty. She said all the participants were fairly regular and gave me a bit
more information on her experience with the group. We came up with our plan for the
following week and I signed out in the volunteer log before I wandered out onto the street.
Over the weeks our group ebbed and flowed in size with a core of regular members. A few
people joined from time to time and each brought with them new voices, stories and energy.
Sitting around our writing group table sat men and women spanning decades of ages from a
laundry list of countries with a menu of languages between us. Some had a cozy home to
return to at night. Others navigated shelter systems. Some wrote about the pain of the past,
others were living it in real time. Each week we gathered from our very different
circumstances and we wrote our stories and offered them to one another in the safety of the
sacred space we had created together.
I never feel more at home or more myself than I do sitting around a table of strangers, all of us
writing, all of us writers – even if we cannot yet say that out loud. In sharing our work, we
witness each other’s voices – whether they be loud or soft, educated or not, spoken in a
language which is our native tongue or one which we are still learning. We make space for
writing in our lives. We acknowledge that while this work is not therapy it is therapeutic. We
also recognize that for many of us it is not just a function of what we do but a significant piece
of who we are – a necessary and essential tool through which we navigate our individual
stories.
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Creating an Expressive Writing Group
Establishing a Space for Writing
Expressive writing is emotional and exhausting work. The physical set up of the space
where writing will occur is important to the success of the work that will be done there and
integral to creating a welcoming environment for participants. There are many factors
worthy of attention when creating a space for writing:
▪ Group Size – working in small groups (8-12 writers) ensures everyone is given an
opportunity to be heard over the course of the workshop. Depending on the nature of
the group (registered vs. drop in) knowing how many writers to expect each week can
be difficult. A co-facilitation model is a matter of safety and accountability but also
serves the practical function of allowing the group to split into two smaller groups
should there be more participants than anticipated.
▪ Timing of the Workshop – be mindful of the day/time workshops are being offered
and what would be most beneficial to the community being served. Additionally, pay
attention to the duration of the workshop. The Writing Centre offers 1.5 hour long
workshops to ensure it is worth the effort participants make to attend knowing many
commute extensively by foot or public transit. Extending the workshop time too long
can be overwhelming and physically exhausting for writers who are diving into
emotional work. It can also be hard to maintain focus depending on the community
being served.
▪ Physical layout – it is best to work around a table setting or desk arrangement
where everyone is made to feel like an equal member of the group. Participants
relax when a space feels comfortable, warm and inviting.
▪ Welcoming & supporting writers – writers are more likely to be vulnerable when
they feel supported and cared for. There are a number of ways to do this. Firstly,
facilitator should arrive early so that they can greet participants and serve as hosts for
the session. This offers an opportunity to welcome newcomers, make sure the room is
adequately set up and that everyone has the necessary supplies for writing (facilitators
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should always come prepared with additional writing supplies or have some stored on
location).
Secondly, facilitators should ensure participants feel their basic needs are being met
– snacks, tea, water – these things can all be effective in creating a warm
environment where people feel cared for in a way that allows them to be vulnerable
in their writing and sharing.
▪ Basic housekeeping - remove distractions (phones and technology), and ensure
everyone has what they need to write (a pen and paper). The facilitator acts as time
keeper during the session so people need not be distracted by checking their phones. If
someone needs to leave early they should let the facilitator know at the start of the
session and the facilitator can provide that reminder freeing up the hassle and worry
for the participant.
▪ Rituals and Routines – it can be helpful to establish rituals and routines to enter into
and come out of writing time. These can be as simple as opening with a land
acknowledgement, a one word check in, a breathing exercise, lighting a candle, serving
tea or a light snack, brief meditation or reading aloud a short piece of writing like a
poem to set the mood for the workshop. Many of these suggestions would also work as
closing rituals. Rituals and routines around writing time can help set that time aside as
sacred or special and can help participants disengage with the challenges of their daily
life and focus more deeply on listening and writing. Participating in an expressive
writing group require a particular type of attention. Rituals and routines can provide a
necessary cue that this time and space demands a different energy and focus.
▪ Establishing the ground rules – the most important element of any expressive
writing group is establishing the ground rules. Asking people to be vulnerable in a
group setting is not something many are accustomed to. Safety is established by a
strong facilitator and non-negotiable principals, behavior expectations and mutual
respect. The Writing Centre calls their ground rules Essential Practices. They are
modelled on Pat Schneider’s (2003) Five Essential Practices. These practices address
participation (while reading your work is encouraged it is not mandatory), feedback
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(will only be given on what is strong in the writing, everything will be treated as
fiction), confidentiality (the expectation that anything shared in the workshop stays
within the confines of that space), the role of the facilitator as a co-participant
(expectation that the facilitator will also read, write and take risks alongside everyone
else) and the importance of deep listening. The essential practices are reiterated at the
beginning of each session and it is the role of the facilitator to ensure all participants are
operating within their confines. There are no exceptions to these ground rules for participants.
The facilitator offers gentle reminders for first time offences but if a participant cannot
honour the essential practices they will be asked to leave the workshop in order to protect the
group.
Everyone is a Participant
Expressive writing workshops should be designed in such a way that every participant is
treated as an equal member. This is re-enforced by establishing the facilitator as a co-
participant. It is also evidenced by the physical set up of the workshop – for example the
small group size and sitting around the same table. After every group writing time, each
participant is invited to share their piece, offer and receive feedback. It is the role of the
facilitator to ensure time is managed accordingly to ensure everyone has equal opportunity. If
a participant declines to share that is fine but they must be given the opportunity.
It is through the frequency of writing and sharing your work that one is able to strengthen their
writing voice. Voice is a tool for expression that allows for a connection or resonance with
others (Elbow, 1998). A strong writing voice is ultimately an illusion created by a writer that
they are speaking directly to their audience “through his ears, even when he is receiving the
message through his eyes” (Clark, 2016, p.113). Ones writing voice is evolving, an “ongoing
human labour that constructs and reconstructs ourselves and our relations to others and the
world” (Lensmire & Satanovsky, 1998, p. 284).
Finding and establishing voice matters because: it creates a sense of authentic human
connection between a writer and her reader; reveals information about the author based on the
level of language used, what ‘person’ is used, length and structure of sentences, use of
metaphor, tone, impact of culture, etc. (Clark, 2016); it leads to stronger writing and more
effective communication; there is a connection between voice, identity and consciousness
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(Luce-Kapler, Catlin, Sumara and Kocher, 2011). Allowing every group participant equal
opportunity to develop and enhance their story and voice is empowering for participants.
As one Writing Centre participant says anonymously on the organizations website,
“Finally people are listening to me”. Another testimonial by a staff member at a partner
organization describes the group as a place of support for those members of society who
have been devoiced. “By focusing…on dialogue, by warmly supporting self-expression
and listening, the group serves as a healing and growing space where participants can re-
encounter…the powerful and definitively human act, of telling their story and connecting
with others” (Impact Statement from Partner Organization found on The Writing
Centre’s website, 2019).
Necessary Conditions for Discourse
The ground rules outlined above are essential conditions for participant discourse. The ground
rules serve as the verbal contract each participant agrees to when they come to the table and
they lay the foundation for a trusting relationship within the group. If participants do not feel
safe they will not engage in meaningful practice. Each participant should receive a printed
copy of the ground rules upon attending their first workshop. This document should be
reviewed regularly and upheld without exception by the group as modelled and mediated by
the facilitator.
Confidentiality, in particular, must be held in the highest regard. No conversation about any
piece of writing should leave the writing workshop unless outside discussion is initiated and
invited by the author. No identifying characteristics between author, character and story
should be linked outside the room.
Participants must feel safe to offer their opinions honestly and openly and engage in healthy
discourse with their peers. They must know that it is a safe space to share both written work
and reactions to others writing. It is in this type of environment that participants can open
themselves to new perspectives and critically reflect upon past assumptions – both integral to
a potentially transformative experience.
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Facilitator as Participant
I have already dedicated a chapter of this thesis to the roles and responsibilities of the
facilitator in an expressive writing group but want to highlight the significance of the
facilitator as a co- participant rather than an authority figure.
As a group leader, it is easy for participants to view the facilitator as an expert and as an
evaluator. This power dynamic can be especially troublesome in an expressive writing group
for a number of reasons. Firstly, because many peoples first experiences with writing were in
a classroom setting where their efforts were heavily edited for grammar and spelling and often
harshly criticized. Differentiating expressive writing from communicative classroom and
instructional writing practices is important. Stripping away the facilitators power as a critic or
editor is important for participants. Presenting facilitators as co-participants is one way of
addressing this concern. Secondly, a facilitator’s feedback on a piece of writing will be
weighted disproportionately to that of others unless they are stripped of their ‘expertise’ and
viewed as equals. Ultimately, presenting the facilitator as a co-learner instead of as an
authority figure aims to balance power within the group.
It is worth noting that facilitators are not the only ones who hold power in the room. Social
pressures and peer groups weigh heavily, impacting both what is shared and what is heard.
These are issues which the facilitator must be aware of and work to address if and when
necessary.
Self–Directed Environment
Ultimately it is the role of the facilitator to establish a self-directed environment that is owned
by the participants themselves. Transformation and self-directed learning go hand-in-hand and
it is important for facilitators to understand the factors which either inhibit or promote self-
directed learning. Pilling-Cormick (1997) suggests three components in the Self-Directed
Learning Process model: the control factor, interaction between the educator and student (or in
this case the facilitator and participant), and influences on the interaction between the
facilitator and participant.
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▪ Control – the control participants have over their learning process is central to
developing a self-directed learning process. The Writing Centre addresses this in
having facilitators offer prompts but not restricting participants to that topic.
Additionally, participants are invited to share and offer feedback but not required to
do so. In this sense, the participant is always in control of how they choose to engage
in the writing group.
▪ Interaction between facilitator and participant – the success of the self-learning
process is impacted by the two central parties. This interaction is an active process
in which participants need to identify what information or skills they want or need
and actively work to acquire it. Critical reflection is central to this process.
Participants must ask themselves - what do I want to learn? How will I learn it? Why is
this important to me?
▪ Influences – Four factors affect the amount of control participants have: social
constraints, environmental characteristics (physical and emotional), participant
characteristics, and educator characteristics (Pilling-Cormick, 1997). Each of these
factors is located outside the realm of control. The essential practices of The Writing
Centre aim to address these factors through the social contract they make with the
community on topics of participation, feedback, confidentiality, deep respectful
listening and by establishing the facilitator as a co-participant.
Summary of Findings
This chapter explores the practices of expressive writing groups. It examines the role of
community, relationship building and partnerships across a range of disciplines in providing
mental health support. The Lancet Commission identifies such practices as essential to
addressing the gap in care which currently exists globally. This chapter answers the research
question - How does an expressive writing group operate? What practices, principals and
procedures are in place and what are they based upon? Data was collected through The
Writing Centre’s facilitator training materials, website, organizational planning documents and
grant applications as well as interview transcripts and my personal experience as a participant
and a facilitator in expressive writing workshops. I summarize my findings to each element of
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the research question below and include notes on the benefits of practicing expressive writing in
a group.
Practices of an Expressive Writing Group
“Writing is an incomparable tool for empowerment. Before a woman who is a low income
single parent can resume an interrupted education, she must believe in the integrity and
power of her own voice. Before an abused or neglected child can entrust painful secrets to a
caring adult, he must experience having his story honored. In the silence of bereavement, or
being a developmentally delayed adult in a group home, or being an incarcerated man
waiting out his time, or a battered woman in a shelter, writing can be the bridge out of
isolation into community. In community there can be hope and help.” (Schneider, 2003, p.
260).
An expressive writing group comes together to write about their lives in an honest and real
way. They are prompted by a facilitator and encouraged, although not required, to share their
work with the group. If the prompt provided by the facilitator does not resonate with them,
they are encouraged to simply write what comes to mind in the allotted time. In addition to
writing and reading freshly authored pieces, members of an expressive writing group engage
in deep listening to one another’s writing and offer thoughtful oral feedback about what
resonated with them and on what was strong in the writing. Critique, edits and opportunities
for improvement are only offered at the request of the writer.
Principals and Operating Procedures of an Expressive Writing Group
For me, writing is when I feel most raw and most authentically me. Exposing yourself, your
feelings and fears is not a practice many people feel comfortable with. Doing this in the
presence of others is a nerve wracking and intimidating endeavor. I have experienced time
and time again writing groups that begin with surface level sharing, progresses through
hidden memories and evolve into a community of people facing their greatest fears on the
page.
Expressive writing groups adhere to strict guidelines around participant expectations and
behavior in order to make this sort of work possible. These guidelines are conveyed to the
group by the facilitator who is expected to model good practice and correct the behavior of
those who do not adhere to the guidelines. The guidelines of an expressive writing group are
particularly concerned with creating a safe space where all feel welcome, confidentiality, the
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nature and delivery of feedback, the role of the facilitator and the expectations surrounding
participation.
Foundations of an Expressive Writing Group
The foundations of expressive writing rest in the ability of individuals to explore their storied
lives and deepest emotions through writing. This process, while not therapy, is recognized to
be therapeutic offering benefits for both mental and physical health. Many members of
expressive writing groups comment on the transformative nature of this practice as a result of
both writing and also listening to others.
My experience, which I explore throughout this piece, of personal growth, transformation and
healing through writing is not unique. For an organization like The Writing Centre, it’s a
regular occurrence. Offers one participant, “the act of writing and articulating my thoughts is
just as powerful as speaking them aloud” (McShane et. al., 2018, p.25). When reading about
those who have practiced expressive writing, there is frequently reference to the opportunity
expressive writing offers to discover not only one’s writing voice but their voice in society.
This affirms the notion of writing as a tool for ‘becoming’ as articulated by Lensmire and
Satanovsky (1998).
These foundational beliefs are at the heart of The Writing Centre’s vision statement which
articulates a desire to use writing as a tool for promoting individual and community well-being,
challenging individuals to find their voice and empowering them to use it.
Benefits of Practicing Expressive Writing in a Group
In the initial expressive writing studies conducted by Pennebaker, the participants wrote in
isolation and there was no audience for their work. I have practiced expressive writing alone
and it works. Research also suggests there are benefits to doing this work in groups and my
own experience as a group participant and facilitator leads me to believe the benefits of group
writing and sharing to be substantial. There is power in being heard. There is a deep sense of
human connection associated with both reading your story and witnessing the written work of
a stranger. There is a sense of community that forms from this sort of work that is invaluable in
85
addressing the social isolation felt by many and especially those struggling through life
transitions.
Expressive writing groups also become a support system for many who attend – a place
where they feel safe to be vulnerable, to discover themselves and share that burgeoning
sense of self with others in an affirming environment. This is certainly what they have
become for me.
My time spent in expressive writing groups has been rich with compassion, empathy and raw
emotion. It is a refreshing experience in a world where much of our human interaction is
mediated by technology and many of the stories we see and hear are filtered or heavy with
cynicism. Expressive writing groups have fostered my ability to listen and truly hear the
stories and life struggles of others who may live vastly different lives than my own but who’s
experience with hurt and pain, loss and struggle feel familiar to me in some way. I have
become more compassionate as a result. I have become much slower to judge and much
quicker to question my own assumptions about the lives others lead and the choices they are
forced to make. Hearing the stories of others has allowed me a window into situations I hope
to never know and levels of personal growth I can aspire to. The opportunity to experience
such intimacy each time I gather around the table is an unrivaled gift.
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Chapter 7 Conclusions In this final chapter, I review the major themes of this paper, summarize the research findings
in relation to the research questions and discuss the limitations, contributions, implications
and opportunities stemming from the study results.
The Power of Expressive Writing
For anyone who questions the power of a pen and an unwritten story, recall the unlikely
impact of a grandmother and a bench in rural Zimbabwe discussed at the outset of this thesis.
While there is undoubtedly a need for trained specialists and professional services, the
mounting need for mental health support around the globe demands innovation and action
outside of traditional forums. As demonstrated by Dr. Chibanda’s Friendship Bench program,
a scarcity of resources and sense of desperation can fuel wildly creative and often simple
solutions that draw upon volunteer resources, operate outside of clinical settings and build
community alongside healing practices. In this regard, the Friendship Bench program and the
expressive writing workshops offered by The Writing Centre are not all that different.
Research has proven the individual benefits of expressive writing to include improved mental
health including an increased sense of hope, resilience, and reduced stress levels. There are
also known physical health benefits including pain management, improved sleep, post-
operative healing, arthritis and asthma. Expressive writing as a form of arts based learning
and self- expression not only strengthens writing and communication skills but also nurtures
a strong writing voice which has implications for self-esteem.
The art of crafting a personal narrative through expressive writing is healing and can offer
valuable insight for individuals. Narrative provides cohesion and a unified sense of self in so
much as they weave together a reconstructed past, perceived present, and anticipated future.
Write Pennebaker & Seagal (1999) “The beauty of a narrative is that it allows us to tie all of
the changes in our life into a broad comprehensive story. That is, in the same story we can
talk about the cause of the event and its many implications” (p. 1250).
87
Essential to the success of expressive writing is finding a way to incorporate moments of
disruption or pain into the fabric of the story. To engage in this work participants need to feel
safe and supported in exploring elements of their story without shame or judgement, the need
to censor for fear of offending or the worry of triggering past hurts in themselves or others.
This sense of safety is achieved through strict workshop guidelines that are modelled and
maintained by the facilitator. They include group policies surrounding deep listening,
confidentiality and feedback.
The process of expressive writing regularly results in transformation for participants.
Through expressive writing workshops participants regularly experience personal growth,
improved communication skills and develop a writing practice that can serve them well
throughout their lives. It is also common that linked to this growth and development is a
renewed sense of purpose and a call to action.
The process of transformation is often referred to in expressive writing practices as finding
one’s voice. For writers, finding your voice on the page references a literary technique used to
create an illusion that you are speaking directly to the audience. To find your writing voice
means that you have established a form of expression that allows you and your words to
resonate with others. It often also means you have found a resonance within yourself that can
be felt by the reader or listener. Finding your voice allows you to become a stronger
communication on the page but often off the page as well. There is a known connection
between voice, identify and consciousness that reads as an awareness and acceptance of who
you are but also a confidence in being that person. That confidence can rarely stay trapped on
the page but creeps into the writer and is carried out into the world.
Even facilitators trained to lead expressive writing workshops as co-participants continue to
identify profound moments of personal growth in the form of connection, purpose, enhanced
leadership skills, improved writing, the development of deep listening skills, increased
empathy and a deeper sense of human connection.
While individual expressive writing practices show the same positive results as those reported
from participants in expressive writing groups – there are further benefits for those who attend
workshops. These benefits include being challenged by new ideas and ways of being,
88
celebrating each unique voice and the individuality of all participants, finding connection and
building community through shared experiences and emotions, storytelling and sharing.
Participants gain skills in deep listening, empathy, and practice giving and receiving feedback.
Additionally, the act of being heard can be both inspiring and empowering.
Facilitating an expressive writing group requires a strong moderator, deep listening, highly
organized individual who is empathetic and comfortable sharing their own vulnerabilities with
the group. Ideally, they have ties to the community they serve as a co-participant more so than
as an expert or teacher. They are committed to writing as a form of individual growth and
healing and know how to create a safe space for that work to be done.
Expressive writing facilitators need to be well versed in the essential practices of the
organization and workshop guidelines but also the rationale for why they are essential to the
success of the program. Facilitators must understand, model and uphold policies and
practices surrounding triggering, censorship, feedback, listening and confidentiality. This is
done through situational training, mentoring and co-facilitation models that support
facilitators in their work.
Facilitators are further supported by workshop materials including prompts, poems and other
forms of inspiration to encourage good writing. They are integrated into a larger network of
facilitators both in person and virtually to access best practices and human resources as
support for their work. Facilitators are encouraged to develop relationships with program
staff within their partner organization to strengthen ties and gain professional resources
related to the populations they serve. Ongoing training, co-facilitation models and peer
support programs are integral to the establishment and growth of an expressive writing group
or organization offering expressive writing workshops.
While not all expressive writing groups need to operate on a model like The Writing Centre
where workshops are established within existing organizations and partner agencies there is
tremendous value in this model. Access to highly specialized staff is among the most
beneficial aspect. There is merit in meeting your participant populations in a space that is
natural and accessible for them as opposed to asking them to come to you. Establishing
expressive writing workshops within supportive environments with professional staff who
89
already have unique and specialized training allows facilitators to focus on what they do best
with the support of staff who can address the greater needs of participants.
Establishing a writing community requires a safe and welcoming space for participants,
equal opportunities for participation, ideal conditions for discourse, a facilitator who acts
as a participant and co-learner rather than authority figure and a self-directed environment
that accounts for control, interaction and influences that challenge group cohesion.
The are many benefits to writing in a group. Writing with others can help you: improve craft;
correct mistakes; take risks; shift perspective; grow your network of support; believe in your
abilities and help with healing (Schneider, 2003).
The Potential of Expressive Writing Groups
As I have made clear throughout this paper, my interest in studying expressive writing is
highly personal. Having experienced the same healing and personal growth through writing
that so many Writing Centre participants attest to, I arrived at the call to social action that
follows a transformative learning experience not yet sure of what my contribution might be.
In reaching the conclusion of my study I reflect on its limitations and contributions before
reflecting on the opportunities for further research and offering concluding thoughts.
Study Limitations
At the outset of my research I had every intention of conducting a larger comparative case
study. Limiting the scope of my inquiry to largely the work of just The Writing Centre was in
part circumstantial, it was also a decision based on the volume of data available on The
Writing Centre. I recognize the results of this decision potentially limit the impact of my
research findings as I offer analysis which is reflective of but one model of how expressive
writing workshops might operate.
I was comfortable making this decision for a number of reasons. Firstly, because The
Writing Centre is one of, if not the largest operator of expressive writing groups in Canada
serving not only the most participants but also the most diverse populations. I was also
drawn to this organization because of the innovative approach they take to service delivery –
90
free workshops (to both participants and partner organizations), volunteer facilitators, non-
clinical settings, and always in partnership with existing agencies or organizations. I felt
their model was one worth exploring on a deeper level as I saw in it the most opportunity for
replication, growth and expansion outside of their existing domains.
Given I had the benefit of experience as a participant in other writing groups, workshops,
classes and retreats – some labelled ‘expressive’ and others not – I had a perspective that
allowed me to identify characteristics unique to The Writing Centre’s workshop models but
not with the more concrete data I would have accessed through a comparative case study –
rather through anecdotal and experiential reflection. My hope is that this study of The Writing
Centre offers a starting point which others might use as a basis for comparison in future
research.
Study Contributions
This thesis represents my efforts to advance knowledge in the practice of expressive writing –
specifically in groups outside of clinical settings. Offering insight and analysis of group
practice, this study reflects upon a model that can be applied in numerous environments to
reach a broad spectrum of individuals including but not limited to: schools (youth and also
adult education settings), the workplace (especially for those in high stress jobs such as first
responders or palliative care workers), medical practice, in the aftermath of disaster and crisis
situations and potentially even corporate and online environments.
In my efforts to learn about expressive writing I examined literature from a range of
disciplines. Taking a multidisciplinary approach to the study of expressive writing allowed
me to make connections that I hope will inspire and stimulate conversation across fields.
In breaking down the elements of an expressive writing group practice I identify
confidentiality, feedback, facilitation, listening and group setting as areas for further study in
the scholarship of expressive writing.
91
Implications and Opportunities
At the outset of this piece I refer to mental health strategies proposed by a panel of global
experts through the publication of The Lancet Commission. Among those recommendations
was a need to explore relationship building opportunities between key sectors such as health,
education and
the workplace. They identify a need to explore innovative approaches with trained non-
specialists and a need to give voice to those living with mental health disorders. They also
call for investment in research across a range of disciplines. The expressive writing group
model outlined in this paper demonstrates enormous potential in achieving several of the
recommendations articulated in The Lancet Commission and is worthy of further exploration.
It is cost effective, can be run by volunteer facilitators, works in a range of settings and is
most impactful when operated in partnership with existing social service and community
agencies.
The expressive writing paradigm equips individuals with the skills they need to navigate many
of the challenges they encounter. Participation in an expressive writing group gives the
individual a platform to be heard while challenging assumptions, building empathy and
compassion alongside community. In addition to the tremendous potential benefit for
individuals, there is significance for us all in gaining access to stories we need to hear from
voices we often do not.
Concluding Thoughts
My journey with words has been tremendously rewarding and healing. I have felt the positive
impact of expressive writing upon both my mental and physical health. What’s more, I have
reaped the benefits of building and becoming a member of expressive writing communities.
My lived experience has fueled a passion to explore the power and potential of expressive
writing. This is work which I have begun through this piece of research and which I intend to
carry off these pages and out into the world in collaboration with The Writing Centre and
other like- minded organizations. My research has evoked in me a heightened sense of
urgency to become an active participant in the global war against mental health. My hope is
92
that it has evoked something in you as well – perhaps a sense of curiosity, perhaps even a
desire to write. I have shared my journey here in these pages not so much with the intention
that you will find meaning in my story but with the hope that it might cause you to be curious
about your own.
93
All that we are is story.
From the moment we are born to the time we continue on our spirit journey, we are
involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we
leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem
important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best
possible story we can while we’re here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we
take the time to share those stories with each other, we get bigger inside, we see each other,
we recognize our kinship – we change the world, one story at a time…
(Wagamese as cited in Janssens, 2017)
94
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