I subscribe to Kristen Kieffer’s newsletters for writers and such creative types. I also like to visit her website because out of all the articles and authors I subscribe to who like to help out writers, her stuff speaks to me on a cellular level. She focuses a lot on creative passions, what happens when we lose the spark to write, when writing burns us out…if you’re a writer who writes more than just to create a story–like, maybe this passion is your life–I think you’ll find a lot of Kristen’s stuff helpful.

One of the coolest things I recently discovered was her creation of the Twelve Creative Passion Profiles. If you want to find out yours, go here! After reading through all of them, the one that closely aligns with me is the Expressionist.

The Expressionist is the emotional medium who creates to give voice to their inmost experiences. Because of their deep need for belonging, Expressionists’ passion dies when their creative vulnerability is met with judgment or dismissal.

THIS IS SO APT!! Especially the part about my passion dying. I take stuff so personally when I’ve put so much of myself into my work and have been creatively vulnerable. I’ve read many writers who advise that if you are a sensitive writer, that writing is not the business for you. I think that’s mean, dismissive advice, and look at me! I take things to heart and yet here I am, still writing, still publishing! But it is true–if people are judgmental or dismiss the work that I do, something in me dies. Kieffer calls this our “creative passion.”

With their introspective and deep-feeling souls, Expressionists are intrinsically motivated by the catharsis they find in creating. They love nothing more than pouring their emotional highs and lows into poignant pieces of art.

When fully embodied, Expressionists are deeply vulnerable in their creativity and freely express their greatest fears, desires, joys, and sorrows through their creations. Expressionists who share their work widely often make others feel emotionally seen and known, or else provoke great feeling within them.

One of my biggest goals as a writer is for readers to find themselves in my books. I want people to feel “emotionally seen and known,” and to “provoke great feeling” when they read my work. And it’s true that I pour much of myself into my writing. It’s been reactionary to the terrible things that have happened to me, like in my musical Melancholia, or it’s helped me examine and process trauma, like Son of the Siren has (and that was not an easy book to write, phew!).

Writing heals me. The process itself may hurt, because I’m digging deep into myself and wrenching stuff out, but the feeling that I get when I finish writing a book is just as Kristen describes–it’s catharsis. It’s relief. It’s a weight off of me. And also–it’s an enormous sense of pride in the fact that I could take something so deeply personal and craft it into something brand new. And then, the book is out of my hands and into the world, and I hope the book is a sort of mirror for my readers in that it not only reflects myself, but them, too.

Because their work is deeply vulnerable, Expressionists’ most vital intrinsic need is belonging. If their creative work is met with judgment or dismissal, Expressionists may feel the pain of rejection keenly and find it difficult to continue creating or sharing their art.

At their worst, Expressionists may quit creating entirely to protect themselves from further emotional exile, or else lock their work (and their hearts) up tight in an effort to keep themselves safe. While it’s not necessarily unhealthy for Expressionists to keep their art private, hiding their work away cuts them off from their capacity to connect through their creativity.

Some Expressionists may feel pressured to produce more quickly and, in doing so, open themselves up to emotional pain they aren’t yet ready to process — or else smother their vulnerability in favor of making less personal (and therefore less meaningful) creations.

There have been times, especially since I’m no longer a teenaged/twenty-something writer, where I’ve wanted to quit, which has surprised and scared me. When I was a young writer, I let it consume me in that the only life I could see for myself was that of a writer, and every decision I’d made was building toward that moment. I kind of feel that same way now, but the feeling burns less brightly. It’s because I have more years behind me, and more experience. I wrote cathartically when I was young, but there was a lot of impulse there. I still write cathartically now, but it’s with clear intention and a plan.

I do have some fears that Kristen mentions in the quote section above. If The Darkness Gate Trilogy (The Name and the Key, The Step and the Walk, The Fear and the Flame) doesn’t perform well or doesn’t surpass Son of the Siren, I will feel like a failure, and perhaps close up shop. That trilogy is the work of my heart and soul. It’s been in my brain for over a decade. I’m working incredibly hard on it. And if it fails, I wonder, will there be any other stories left in me? I know I’m creating a lot of unnecessary pressure for myself, and that it’s not a healthy way to look at it. I’m also looking waaaay far into the future, a future that can’t be predicted. But when I read the Expressionist profile, it really tapped into my fears.

Of course, with problems, there are solutions. If you’re an Expressionist who fears writing too much too soon, or shutting down entirely, here are Kristen’s suggestions, or passion support strategies.

If you’re an Expressionist, your passion support strategies may include:

• Working with a professional to navigate rejection dysphoria
• Getting clear on what you are (and aren’t) willing to share via your art
• Developing an awareness of how such vulnerable work impacts you
• Practicing rest as an essential part of your creative process
• Slowly building up a tolerance for feedback from loving collaborators
• Forgiving those who have hurt or rejected you in the past
• Trusting that you are never alone in your feelings or experiences
• Setting clear boundaries with your audience
• Unlearning shame around emotional sensitivity and vulnerability
• Connecting with people who make you feel seen, known, and loved

As you can see, there is a lot of inner work to be done. That’s because the Expressionist type uses writing, in a way, as a form of inner work, just brought to light. But notice, too, that other people are included in these suggestions. Writing is not an island, as much as we’ve heard. While the act of writing itself may be solitary, we rely on others to get us through the process and to the finish line.

I am really glad I found out about the Twelve Creative Passion profiles. It made me stop and think about myself, my flaws, and what kind of writer I want to be. I recommend you take a look and do some self-reflection, too.