The healing art of creative narrative therapy

“I certainly believe we all suffer damage, one way or another. How could we not, except in a world of perfect parents, siblings, neighbours, companions? And then there is the question of how much it depends on how we react to the damage: whether we admit it or repress it and how this affects our dealings with others. Some admit the damage and try to mitigate it; some spend their lives trying to help others who are damaged; and there are those whose main concern is to avoid further damage to themselves, at whatever cost. And those are the ones who are ruthless and the ones to be careful of.”

—Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending To be a human is to suffer some form damage or trauma.

The question is, can we erase or soothe it by confronting it and turning it into art? Yes. Here is where Creative Narrative Therapy comes in. Trauma fractures our understanding of the world and distorts our sense of self. Writing shapes that pain into something we can hold and transform into art. In doing so, we connect with others, realising we’re not alone. Healing begins there. Creative narrative therapy is built on a clear, fundamental truth: truth telling (to ourselves), and storytelling helps us take back control of the chaos within us, the trauma we’ve experienced as children and adults. It didn’t start as therapy—it began with the core human need to make sense of the chaos we all experience at some time or another.

Jerome Bruner, a cognitive psychologist, understood that stories help organise our thoughts and give shape to our experiences. This can contain and make sense of our deepest pain. Creative narrative therapy turns trauma into narrative and the clarity that comes with that into the story of your life. James Pennebaker advancedthis idea in the 1980s, proving that writing about trauma for just a few minutes each day had measurable effects on both mental and physical health. By putting raw emotion into words, people could face their trauma directly rather than being overwhelmed. Writing allows us all distance— turning pain into something structured and manageable. It transforms buried anguish into a story that can be understood, offering insight into the wounds within us and others. Writing humanises us and our perpetrators, whoever and whatever they are. That’s where healing begins.

Michael White and David Epston pushed the concept further by changing the nature of therapy through narrative. They saw that a person’s story— often twisted and fragmented by trauma—could be reshaped. Through “re-authoring,” individuals were no longer locked into the trauma of their past. Their stories could evolve and become empowering. With writing, people could regain control of their identities and loosen trauma’s hold on them. Many writers, mostly women, have embraced this and turned it into art. They have transformed personal trauma into something sharp, honest, and universal. Their writing connects deeply with others, showing how narrative can heal both the writer and the reader. Turning trauma into words is the first step from chaos to coherence—from suffering to strength. This is the essence of creative narrative therapy. The virtual writing workshops I’m leading on September 21 and 28 from 5 7 pm. Under the Bocas Academy have reached full capacity, indicating how many people are ready to confront their lives, turn them into stories, and heal by doing so. I’ll use examples from my own book, Love the Dark Days, and draw on the work of other non-fiction writers who have transformed personal experiences into powerful narratives.

Roxane Gay–Hunger

Roxane Gay’s Hunger deals with the trauma of sexual assault and her relationship with her body. Gay’s writing is unapologetically honest, revealing the ways in which trauma has shaped her identity. Her ability to explore these themes while also considering how her narrative affects readers speaks to her mastery of balancing personal healing with a broader societal critique. Gay’s memoir is an excellent example of how trauma writing can be both deeply personal and culturally impactful. She writes: “The story of my body is not a story of triumph. This is not a weight-loss memoir. There will be no picture of a thin version of me, my slender body emblazoned across the book jacket, with me standing in one leg of my former, fatter self’s pants.” Gay’s honest exploration of trauma reflects how personal experiences of pain and vulnerability can resonate with others and foster broader conversations about trauma, body image, and healing.

Joan Didion–The Year of Magical Thinking

Didion’s work is a meditation on grief and loss. After the sudden death of her husband, Didion turns to writing to process her overwhelming emotions. She describes how grief “comes in waves” and obliterates the normalcy of life. By documenting her trauma, Didion creates a narrative that helps her make sense of her experience and offers readers a framework for understanding their own grief. Didion writes: “Grief, when it comes, is nothing like we expect it to be. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.” Her writing reflects the disorienting nature of trauma and the transformative power of narrative in making sense of loss.

Mary Karr–The Liars’ Club

Mary Karr’s The Liars’ Club is a memoir about her tumultuous childhood, filled with family dysfunction, mental illness, and trauma. Karr’s vivid prose and unflinching honesty have made her memoir a classic in trauma literature. Her ability to use humour while recounting harrowing events demonstrates the cathartic power of narrative therapy, transforming painful memories into a cohesive story that brings both healing and understanding. Karr writes: “I had always known that my father’s people drank and fought like their lives depended on it and that my mother’s people were good at keeping secrets.” Her writing highlights how storytelling can serve as a therapeutic outlet for processing trauma and a means of connecting with readers who have experienced similar struggles.

Kathryn Harrison–The Kiss

Kathryn Harrison’s The Kiss explores her incestuous relationship with her estranged father, a deeply controversial and painful subject. Harrison’s willingness to confront this taboo subject through writing demonstrates the power of narrative to process even the darkest experiences. By putting her trauma into words, Harrison reclaims her story, transforming it from something hidden and shameful into a work of art that invites empathy and understanding. She writes: “I had always been my father’s daughter, a contradiction in terms, a pariah within the heart of my family. I belonged to my father, and in belonging to him, I had betrayed them.” Harrison’s memoir exemplifies how writing can serve as a courageous act of confronting and processing trauma.

The Bocas Academy, based in the Bocas Lit Fest headquarters at The Writers Centre, 14 Alcazar Street, St Clair, Port-of- Spain, provides a platform for Caribbean writers. Upcoming workshops include Unlock Your Heart: Creative Non-Fiction, led by Ira Mathur on September 21 and 28, focusing on personal storytelling, and Your Poems are Powerhouses, a masterclass with Shivanee Ramlochan and Olive Senior on October 12, 19, and 26, offering poets personalised feedback. Poetry Meets Performance, an in-person workshop on November 22 and 29, hones spoken word skills. For more details, visit the Bocas Lit Fest website at www.bocaslitfest.com

Ira Mathur is a Guardian Media journalist and the winner of the 2023 OCM Bocas Prize for Non- Fiction for her memoir, Love The Dark Days. Website: www.irasroom.org.