JOURNAL
The stories we write and the stories that write us
When homework becomes healing
"I hate writing," Sarah said, staring at the blank notebook page. "I'm not creative." The story she'd been telling herself about her abilities was so familiar it felt like truth. But at Hurt Feelings, we know that everyone is already a storyteller—most people just don't realize they're the author of their own narrative.
Creative writing homework in therapy isn't about producing beautiful prose or discovering your inner poet. It's about recognizing that you've been writing your life story all along, and maybe it's time to consider: what if you could edit it? What if you could write new chapters?
Before we ever pick up a pen, we're already living inside stories. The story about why your family always argued at dinner. The story about what it means when someone doesn't text back. The story about who you are when you're anxious, angry, or overwhelmed.
These stories feel like facts, but they're interpretations. And here's what narrative therapy understands that traditional approaches often miss: the same events can tell a hundred different stories. The homework assignment where you failed might be a story about inadequacy, but it could just as easily be a story about trying something difficult, about courage in the face of uncertainty, or about learning something valuable through experience.
When we ask clients to write, we're asking them to become curious about which stories they've been living and which ones they'd rather inhabit.
The stories we tell ourselves can become prisons. "I'm the kind of person who always messes up relationships." "I come from a family that doesn't talk about feelings." "I'm too sensitive for this world." These narratives, repeated enough times, start to feel immutable—like character traits rather than choices.
The hurt comes not from the events themselves, but from the stories we construct around them. When your partner snaps at you, the story might be "I'm annoying" or "they don't love me anymore" or "I always do everything wrong." The snap happened once; the story plays on repeat, causing fresh pain each time.
Creative writing homework helps externalize these harmful narratives. Instead of "I am anxious," we might write "anxiety has been visiting me frequently" or "worry has been taking up a lot of space in my life lately." This isn't semantic gymnastics—it's creating breathing room between you and your experience.
There's something magical that happens when internal stories meet external page. Thoughts that seemed overwhelming in your head become manageable sentences. Emotions that felt too big to hold become words you can move around, examine, and revise.
Research in expressive writing, pioneered by psychologist James Pennebaker, shows that writing about difficult experiences for just 15-20 minutes can improve both mental and physical health. But narrative therapy takes this further. We're not just processing trauma—we're actively authoring new possibilities.
When clients write, they often discover alternative stories that were there all along but got drowned out by louder, more painful narratives. The story of resilience hiding behind the story of victimhood. The story of growth lurking beneath the story of failure. The story of love existing alongside the story of loss.
At Hurt Feelings, writing assignments aren't about perfect grammar or literary merit. They're invitations to explore. We might ask you to:
Write a letter to your anxiety, telling it what you want it to know. Write from the perspective of your future self, looking back on this difficult period. Describe your ideal day as if you're living the story you actually want to be living. Tell the story of a time when you surprised yourself with your own strength.
These aren't exercises in creative fiction—they're exercises in creative truth-telling. You're not making things up; you're discovering what was already real but perhaps unnoticed.
"I'm not a writer" is often the first story we encounter when suggesting writing homework. This resistance makes complete sense. If you've been telling yourself stories that cause pain, why would you want to engage more deeply with storytelling?
But here's what we've learned: the people who are most convinced they can't write are often the ones who most need to reclaim their narrative authority. They've been letting other voices—family, society, past experiences—write their story for so long that they've forgotten they hold the pen.
The resistance itself becomes material for exploration. What story are you telling yourself about your ability to write? Where did that story come from? What would it mean to try anyway?
One of the most powerful aspects of creative writing in therapy is recognizing that stories aren't fixed. The story you write today about your childhood, your relationship, or your struggles with depression doesn't have to be the final version. Stories can be revised, expanded, or completely rewritten as you grow and heal.
This isn't about denying difficult experiences or painting over pain with false positivity. It's about recognizing that you have more agency in your narrative than you might realize. The facts of what happened don't change, but your relationship to those facts—the meaning you make, the emphasis you place, the possibilities you see—can transform entirely.
Creative writing homework helps build bridges between where you are and where you want to be. When you write about your preferred story, you're not just imagining it—you're creating a roadmap. You're identifying the values, relationships, and experiences that matter most to you.
Clients often say their writing surprises them. They discover wisdom they didn't know they had, strength they'd forgotten about, or dreams they'd buried under practical concerns. The writing becomes a form of remembering—not just what happened, but who you are beyond your struggles.
Your life is not a rough draft waiting for someone else to edit. You are the author, the protagonist, and the reader all at once. Creative writing homework simply helps you remember this truth and practice using your narrative authority with intention.
At Hurt Feelings, we don't believe in perfect stories—we believe in authentic ones. Stories that honor the full range of human experience, including the parts that hurt. Because sometimes the most powerful stories are the ones that begin with pain and end with possibility, not because the pain disappeared, but because you learned to write yourself into a larger, more complex narrative.
Your story is already being written. The question is: do you want to be a conscious participant in the process?
If you're ready to explore your own narrative through therapeutic creative writing, we're here to support you. Your story matters, your voice deserves to be heard, and there's no right or wrong way to begin.