How trauma stopped me from enjoying fiction
(And how switching genres got me out of my story slump)
When I was heavily pregnant with my second child, I decided to start an online book club for people who – like me – were once avid readers but had fallen out of the habit.
There were plenty of things I thought were to blame for this shift: social media and the hours of mindless scrolling…sleep deprivation since having kids…the lack of a commute while I was on maternity leave…
But it was only after I’d had about three panic attacks while reading Maggie O’Farrell’s masterful memoir, I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes With Death*, that I finally figured out what was preventing me from engaging with fiction: my unresolved trauma.
In the case of this particular book, the writing was so sublime that I pushed my way through until the blisteringly visceral end. Finishing it felt like relief, but at least two of her ‘brushes with death’ were so close to my own experiences (in relation to childbearing) that reading about them had, at the time, felt like I was reliving the most terrifying and upsetting moments of my life. The fear and dread that consumed me as I turned those pages are testament to the power of O’Farrell’s writing, but were such physical and real feelings that, for a long time afterwards, I began to shun books (and certain films and TV shows) altogether once more.
My virtual book club fell by the wayside, and I felt like I’d never be able to connect with literature and stories again.
But then a few things happened.
Firstly, I finally sought support for birth trauma and began to process what had happened to me in 2015. I began to understand that things like O’Farrell’s book were ‘triggering’ my PTSD, and that ‘avoidance’ was a common reaction. It was just sod’s law that I was avoiding something (stories) that had always brought me such happiness and stimulation.
Next, I began to pick up a different kind of book. I realised I’d always been subconsciously snobby about my reading material, always opting for more literary novels than commercial. As soon as I started reading more ‘uplit’ and rom-com books, I began to fall in love with stories again. I started seeking out TV shows that made me smile instead of shudder. And I leant into my ‘guilty pleasure’ of enjoying made-for-TV Christmas movies, intentionally removing the ‘guilt’ element and truly embracing my love for them instead. After all, why should we feel guilty for things that make us feel good?
The final thing that happened was the big old global reset: covid. As I wrote last time, in the depths of 2020’s winter lockdown – and over Christmas as I filled my brain with formulaic yet cosily familiar festive movies – I began to write my own Christmas rom-com.
I never intended the novel to explore all the themes I’ve just mentioned above in relation to trauma, comfort and joy. Yet the very act of writing it taught me something fundamental as the words poured out of me: what brings me comfort doesn’t necessarily bring others comfort – and vice versa. Each of us is likely dealing with our own difficulties and traumas – known or unknown. Some people find comfort in horror stories that shrink their own problems in comparison. Others love documentaries about plane crashes (I still can’t get my head around this one – is it because the aviation industry always learns from the tragedies I wonder? Does that subconsciously provide hope about the human capacity to evolve and improve?). Others love the human drama of Love Island. And I love the predictability of made-for-TV Christmas movies.
Funnily enough, so does my novel’s protagonist…
I finished the first draft of the novel in seven months and printed it out so I could hug it – just like it had hugged me all those nights I’d written it while my children slept. But, even though I was incredibly proud of myself for writing 90,000 words of escapist comfort, little did I know that I still had a lot of work to do…EDITING. More on that next time!
This month’s tip for other aspiring authors: Are you also in a reading or writing slump? Maybe it’s time to try dabbling with a different genre. Speaking of which…
Currently reading: The Appeal * by Janice Hallett. ‘Cosy crime’ is having a resurgence thanks to Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club series, but it’s not a genre I’ve read before. Hallett’s debut is a fun and unique take on a mystery novel, with readers invited to 'solve’ the crime alongside fictional law students who are trawling through a trove of correspondence from the depths of middle England. I’m so intrigued to see where this story goes and the lack of chapters means it’s incredibly hard to put down.
What I recently enjoyed reading: Sorrow and Bliss * by Meg Mason. Protagonist Martha is plagued by (an unnamed) mental illness and the story begins with the breakdown of her marriage. Haunting and hilarious in equal measure, the warmth in this book leaps off the page. For me, it was ultimately a love story between the sisters, though I kind of wish the novel had explored the characters’ privileges a little more.
What I last enjoyed watching: Love Life on BBC iPlayer is a nice and easy watch, with each series focusing on the emotional endeavours of a particular character, and each episode delving into one of their relationships (spoiler: not always romantic ones). The second series has just landed, with The Good Place’s William Jackson Harper taking the lead role this time around. From what I’ve seen of it so far I definitely prefer series 1 starring Anna Kendrick, but it’s still enjoyable.
What I’ve been thinking a lot about: Related to this edition of the newsletter, I’m constantly wishing that books would include trigger / content warnings. In my view, it would be so easy for authors and publishers to flag potentially upsetting themes in unobtrusive ways, without giving away major plot points. And it would actually make me more likely to read certain books, knowing that tricky issues lie ahead (my particular brain enjoys predictability). There is a user-generated online database (here’s an example listing, but there’s no listing for Sorrow and Bliss, for example, so it’s by no means exhaustive). What do you think? Hit reply if you have any thoughts!
Until next month x
Love this newsletter so much and so much to resonate with. Not least the pain/joy of editing my own 90,000 work-in-progress (work-in-v-slow-also-while-baby-sleeps-progress!). Also thank you for sharing your story Hayley, and your openness is inspiring.
In answer to your prompt at the end, I do think some books should come with warnings. I also suffered with birth trauma and post-natal anxiety disorder and both were severely triggered before I got help too by the opening to The New Wilderness, by Diane Cook---an otherwise brilliant novel but hard to read after that trigger! I also LOVED Maggie's I AM I AM I AM, but gladly read it before the birth, and would have found it hard after. Waiting a bit before reading it again... I loved reading about your reading habits now too. I often have a mix of books on the go and feel like I only just read someone else saying this week that our guilty pleasures, should just be "things we like which make us unique" :) I like that reframing.
I’m also so glad you found another genre and everything it unlocked—and that you are able to share this journey with us too. I love the idea of you hugging back your manuscript. On the point about one person’s comfort not being the same for another: what does that mean for your novel now?