A writer’s perspective: How creative writing helped me see me

“After all everybody, that is, everybody who writes is interested in living inside themselves in order to tell what is inside themselves.” - Gertrude Stein, Paris France.

But—that doesn’t mean you have to stay inside. 

Creative writing has been a faithful friend, a mentor made of mirrors, and an artistic companion for as long as I could grab a pen. From scribbling heartfelt emo lyrics in my childhood bedroom to writing professionally out of a trendy co-work in a foreign country, this is my journey of self-realization through creative writing—as an artist, as a heartist, and as a queer creature. 

Come with me as I unfold the felt and feared to the bold and told, transform what was hidden to written, and quote some of the greats along the way. What has helped me may help you too.

Life can be a bit of a labyrinth. Sometimes “coming out” involves going in. Here’s how creative writing created that space for me. 

Some truths speak when no one’s watching

While creative expression is now both my profession and passion, speaking truth continues to be something easier desired than done. When realization feels unsafe, writing makes space.

Coming from where I came from (we’ll get to that) and growing up when I did (I won’t age myself quite yet), shame was much more accessible than pride on the queer front. At least in the outside world.

Luckily, I was gifted two parents who let me wear baggy shorts, play (or better yet, kick @$$ at) sports, and rock out in the basement with the boyz to original compositions like “Compromise Don’t Paralyze My Heart" despite being a “girl.”  

Quick pause: If you didn’t laugh out loud at the overly romantic, already compromising, punky kid lyric, let me welcome you in with a group hug (I’m a big fan of them) and a healthy helping of humility to invite you to enjoy the next howevermany words with sincere comradery and kind company. You’re allowed to laugh. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to reflect. Grab a tea-I’m a cancer baby, we like it cozy. 

So, while I felt comfortable with my family, at my home, and in my childhood neighborhood setting, any time I met the “outside world” - be it school, sports, or grocery shopping - I was often worked with a wave of reality: Oh shit–I’m different.

After countless encounters where I was misgendered, sent in the wrong direction, and shamed for an inclination, I began to feel like no matter where I went “outside,” I was always wrong, or worse—offensive. 

Safe places, special spaces

Long before I realized creative writing and the creative act in general was not a hobby, but a passion, the practice began to form roots in an internal, secret life of mine—a place where I didn’t have to hide. 

Eventually and regrettably, I succumbed to peer pressure and put on a feminine front. I’d wear my baggy skater clothes after school and on the weekends in my neighborhood, and my patchwork dresses and bright tank tops with my heteronormative high school group (half of whom were hiding too) during the pep rallies and yearbook meetings. 

But—I had a room of one’s own, as dear Virginia Woolf called it. 

Paris France, Stein's memoir quoted above, was published the same day Paris fell to Nazi Germany. Similarly, my composition notebook and desk full of looseleaf pages and unspoken secrets found life within ruins.  

While the pains of socialization, suppression, and shame drew a dark chrysalis around me, my creative writing practice surfaced.

The inevitable reflection 

If you keep a journal, maintain a morning writing practice, or stash letters you never send you can relate to that moment when you go back and read your old stuff like—Wo. That makes so much sense now. 

That’s something I’ve always loved about writing. It’s the ultimate mirror. Yet, it’s also a place where you get to put your hand on the mirror, and shift the perspective. 

Whether I was writing romantic lyrics, cooking up some unreachable fiction, or exploring othered parts of myself through the guise and vessel of a character, I was able to create a safe place to say what I needed to say, try on a pronoun, or undress a doctrine, no judgement. 

Business by day, poetry by night 

As I aged, I became pulled further apart by polarity. I wrestled with the imbalance of my internal and external worlds: a suppressed and repressed queer poet at heart who was in business school in the southern and conservative United States of America in the world. My secret life longed for an out. 

I remember my best friend at the time was an engineer and we were having a heart-to-heart one night. For the first time, I read something I wrote out loud and they let out “You’re a f**king poet!” 

Bashful as I was, I loved it. I felt so seen and heard and empowered. That was one of the first stepping stones onto a new road. I’d walk the hero's journey from now on.  

You are not alone: Friends I found along the way

There weren't examples of queer folk rocking it out while I was growing up. There still aren’t enough. 

There weren’t TikTok accounts of idols reaching out beyond suburbs and into rural towns. There were racist, sexist, homophobic peers and parents perpetuating oppressive narratives.

But—there was the internet, allies, and there were books. If I didn’t like the stories being told, I’d find other ones. Or, write my own. 

Heroes 

Poetry is not a luxury. 

My dear companion Audre Lorde (we hang out a lot) wrote what I needed to read, and what she hoped would set many other people free. In her collection of powerful essays, Sister Outsider (go get it at your local book store), Lorde reminds us of incredible, inevitable and guiding truths:

• Your silence will not save you 
• The master's tools will never dismantle the master’s house
• The transformation of silence into language and action is an act of self-revelation 

And that poetry is not a luxury, but a necessity. 

Meanwhile James Baldwin, one of my absolute favorite writers, made a speech on The Artist's Struggle for Integrity that became one of the most pinnacle pillars in my practice. 

Baldwin spoke of the artist’s need to tell the truth, no matter how dangerous. That art is a way of bearing witness and refusing silence. Baldwin’s work, as a Black, gay writer in America, taught me that vulnerability is not a weakness—it’s the only way through.

And the way Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love described the elusive creative genius in her Ted talk, made me feel like I had a friend who too loved and understood such an exquisite corner of existence—and who I might find there if I ever felt lonely.

What do these people have in common? They’re all part of the LGBTQI community, passionate activists, word wizards, and helped me on my way. 

Rally the resources

“Of all the art forms, poetry is the most economical. It is the one which is the most secret, which requires the least physical labor, the least material, and the one which can be done between shifts, in the hospital pantry, on the subway, and on scraps of surplus paper.” - Audre Lorde 

Maybe you don’t have a room of your own. But are you holding a pen? Sitting in silence? Making time between the noise?

My partner’s parent has a saying in Spanish that goes, “No te preocúpes, ocúpate.” Which, like all poetry, can’t be translated as it’s the words themselves in communion with the meaning that make the magic. Nonetheless, it deserves an attempt.

Put plainly, it means: don’t worry, get busy. Despite the loss of the play on words and rhyme via translation, the message is still great. If you feel at a loss, do something about it! Of course that’s another one that’s easier said than done but my advice is to remember—you’re not alone.

To get my writing practice going and get uplifted by the queer community I:

• Pursued further education online and in real time, formal and informal, where I met the beat poets, the grammar rules I’d break, and the like-minded people that’d open my world.
• Joined writer’s groups online across the world and locally in person that I found via message boards, letting people know I was interested, or joined mailing lists of publishing companies I vibed with. 
• Made allies with other artists who encouraged my creativity, questioning, and queerness. From the ancient Greeks with their androgynous statues to accountability buddies in Berlin, a wide range of allies and artists helped me self-actualize. Whether that was giving each other deadlines to make sure we completed pieces before anyone cared to publish us, collaborating and self-publishing multimedia books like this, or making music together (literally and figuratively) out of the process, interacting with these people has allowed me to feel safe, seen, and supported enough for my queerness and creativity to flourish. 

To this day, messages from these friends—sharing upcoming films, must-read books, or quotes they stumbled across—keep me going.

You are not alone.

Find your tribe (they exist)

Writing doesn’t have to be a solitary act. Neither does figuring out who—or how—you are.

The moment we begin writing, we place ourselves in communion with every writer, thinker, and dreamer who came before and stands beside us. Creative writing is a collective inheritance.

In a time of extreme polarization and hyperconnectivity, Audre Lorde’s reminder rings louder than ever: “Our future survival is predicated upon our ability to relate within equality.”

By having conversations with other artists (now and then), I’ve been able to show up in the world more fully, more truthfully, more tenderly. By showing up as a queer writer in the world, I found the people I needed—and they found me too.

That’s how I found dslx, met my life partner, and got introduced to a number of other key creative collaborators in my ever-evolving person and practice. We affirm each other in our becoming.  

Whether you’re ready to explore a room of your own, inspired to interact with other writers, or eager to find some allies, we’re here to help progress the process. Let’s write it out, together. 

Writing doesn’t have to be a solitary act. Get connected with other writers, upskill your practice, and interact with edits to get your story out in the world. 

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