Writing Can Save Your Life: Legendary Columnist Anna Quindlen Tells Us Why
For over the past 50 years, the writings of Anna Quindlen have been there for us.
The venerable reporter, columnist, and author has consistently placed pen to paper, immortalizing the events of such massive swaths of life it would be impossible to note them all. She started as a reporter in New York, first at The Post, then at The New York Times where she won hearts and minds—and a Pulitzer—for her columns.
In the mid-1990s, Quindlen’s observations and words began to unspool into novels, which is perhaps how she is most widely known today. She has written 21 books. Her writing, rich in detail and deep in sentiment, has been a light. A source of contemplation and self-reflection. A beacon there for humanity.
This brings me to the crux of her latest book, Write for Your Life. Quindlen posits that writing is too important to be explored only by the professional writers and journalists of the world. Writing is for all of us. And we must lean into it.
As Quindlen shares with me in our conversation, when we open ourselves to the ritual of putting down our thoughts in a discursive way, we take part in documenting our history. Which in many ways, is proving that everyone’s writing can be there for us.
Writing also allows us to honor ourselves, says Quindlen. “That is such a challenge in our modern life with its pace, with its technology, with its emphasis on celebrity and glamor: To sit quietly with yourself and say, I'm important. I have something to say.”
You have produced an immense body of work over your career. Your latest book homes in on how you believe writing is for all of us. Why this topic and this book now?
We need it. Writing for yourself, writing in a journal, writing a letter to someone you love, noting the events of the day, help you mentally and spiritually. There are endless studies showing that people under incredible stress, people who are having mental health issues, people who are struggling with illness or loss, are improved by writing down their feelings on paper. Not necessarily longhand, but certainly by writing down in a concerted and discursive way—what they're thinking and feeling.
After the book was done and published, the president of Barnard College, Sian Beilock, told me about a study she had done that I wished I had been able to include. She [worked with] a group of students who were very stressed about an upcoming math test. They divided them into two groups: One group went off and studied for the math test, and the other group took the time to sit down and write their feelings, why they were feeling so stressed, how it was manifesting, and what it was about this particular test. The group who had written about it did better on the test. If I ever needed any data to undergird my own sense of the value of writing for all people, not just for writers, it was hearing Sian talk about that outcome.
That is profound. I’d like to further explore what you mean when you say “writing.” The word gets tossed around today: We write social media posts and emails. We write audio notes on our phones. What does writing truly mean to you?
I think we're fooling ourselves about how much writing we're really doing. And I understand why. At the end of the day, if you sent out 20 emails and ripped off 40 texts, you may think, I have produced a lot of words in the space of the day. But what do they really amount to? There’s a line in the book that says, ‘if you could look down right now at a piece of writing left behind by someone you love, who would it be? What would it say?’ I don't think the kind of writing that we do with the new tech technology is the kind of writing that soothes our souls or offers some sort of legacy to those that we're going to leave behind.
You have to sit down and do something slower, more thoughtful, more introspective, more discursive to produce that kind of writing—the writing that has an effect on you, and that 20 or 30 years from now might have an effect on your children or your grandchildren.
Writing can be intimidating. Some may tense up over it because they remember loathing having to write school essays. Others may not feel worthy to write, or that they have a rich-enough vocabulary. You’re urging each of us to pick up the pen, no matter. What do you say to someone who has reservations about writing?
To anybody who feels intimidated or put off by the notion of writing, I would say that I feel that way every single day. That feeling has never gone away. I'm not entirely sure, but I think this is booked 21 [chuckles]. Writing is about putting yourself out there. Even if you're the only person reading it. It's about saying, ‘I have something to say.’ And that is intimidating.
The last chapter of the book is about history. Most of the history that we know has been written by prosperous white men in positions of power about great events. That history is important. But to me, as a mother and as a grandmother and as a friend, I want granular history. I want to know how people like me got up in the morning and lived their lives—during colonial days, during the civil war in India, in Ukraine […] That kind of history is only available to us if ordinary people write about their lives.
You fill your book with exercises on how to get writing. What is a tip for getting started?
A woman once told me that her writing prompt was, ‘I don't know what to write about, but…’ That ‘but’ is what took her to someplace else. I don't know what to write about, but… it's been a really hard day because this happened. I don't know what to write about, but… my grandchildren are on their way over and I want to tell them what my life was like when I was their age.
People find it more accessible to do this in letter form because they're thinking of the reader as someone who they love and who loves them. Some grandparents have told me that if they can write as I would, Dear Arthur, Dear Ivy, Dear Jake, that gives them a way in because they can easily imagine what they want to tell those children.
Thank you, Anna. And being someone who writes, I value you saying that you face fear in doing your craft.
It’s so important for a writer to say that because I do think we've absorbed this idea that if you're good at something, that means it's painless. I assume that when Michael Phelps swims, his shoulders hurt. Yet I think people look at writers and think, well, it's easy for them to write. I certainly want to be out there as someone who says it's not true for me.
Anna Quindlen is a writer, journalist, columnist, and author. To learn more visit annaquindlen.net. You can order her new book, Write for Your Life, here.
