#85: How a tiny writing group helped me notice life?
...and stay committed to a creative practice
Hey!
I’ve been reading an interesting book, What It Is by Lynda Barry. I’ve found the exercises in it incredibly helpful for discovering stories that seem to be inside me but aren’t yet visible. It’s a wonderful book to pick up, no matter what you’re creating. :)
One last thing: I’m offering the last cohort of my visual thinking bootcamp, Book to Visuals, at the founding price of $99. Register here to join.
Four months ago, I joined a writing course.
The course kept me engaged with weekly writing assignments for a month. Around 30 people were submitting their work, and no matter how lazy I felt, a tiny voice inside me kept saying, If those 29 people can spare some time, why can’t you? The community kept me accountable.
But once the course ended, there was a lull.
A week later, one of the participants reached out to a few of us about starting a writing group. I immediately said yes. I know how much these kinds of groups help me stay accountable. In the end, three of us formed the group. We called it Story Buddies, inspired by the writing course that brought us together.
The goal was simple. Submit one piece of writing every week and give thoughtful feedback on each other’s work.
While catching up with one of my friends, who is also a poet and writer, I mentioned the group. She asked, “Can I join too?” I checked with the others, and everyone was happy to welcome her.
We’re now in Week 13, and we’re a group of four. You will meet them in the post further :)
What happened over these twelve weeks wasn’t just writing. We slowly got to know one another through our stories.
Linh (L Truong) has been writing family stories that include her family’s escape from Vietnam. Reading those pieces gave me intimate glimpses into a time I never lived through. History suddenly felt personal & real.
Listening to her talk about the process has been just as fascinating. Many of these stories were told to her by relatives in Teo-Chew (a Chinese dialect) and Vietnamese before she translated them into English. Sometimes there simply isn’t an exact English word for what she wants to express. It has made me appreciate what it takes to preserve family stories that are often told in fragments and weave them into something future generations can read.
Mark Johnson wrote a poem about a place they stayed during a recent trip and left it as a thank-you note for the homestay owners. The owners framed it and put it up in the homestay. The same person also created a photo book filled with reflections from their travels, which now sits on a shelf in their room. It reminded me how differently we notice the world when we sit down and write about what we’ve experienced.
For me, this group finally got me to begin writing my memoir. It was something I wanted to work on this year but never actually sat down to do. What made the difference was the intimacy of the group. It felt safe enough to share parts of myself that were still raw. Experiences that were traumatic, deeply personal, or simply not ready to be shared with the world yet.
My friend, Anamika (Batto Ki Bakwaas), who joined three weeks ago, started by writing about how difficult it is to begin something like this. Her spontaneous, raw writing introduced me to a different side of her, even though she's one of my closest friends. Last week, she shared a story about three quotes that she has stuck on her work desk even when she initially didn’t plan to write about it. That's what sitting down to write can do. It brings forward stories you never imagined you'd write.
As we witnessed all these beautiful stories unfolding, we even started talking about organising a writing retreat in Vietnam. It didn’t materialise because one of us unexpectedly had to undergo surgery. The idea simply took a different form. Linh and Mark are now considering conducting a writing workshop** in mid-August for people who have always wanted to write but never made time.
It’s interesting to see how one thing leads to another, and what becomes possible when we keep showing up for something that matters to us.
Most of us haven’t published what we’ve written. But that’s never really been the point.
What came out of writing was a kind of release. It felt like untangling stories that had been buried inside us because we never made time for them. Or because we didn’t think anyone would want to listen. Yet these are often the stories that carry the deepest power of connection. They preserve moments that might otherwise disappear into the rush of everyday life.
I still remember reading a poem by Mark about a butcher knife he found lying on the side of the road. The image and the experience itself would probably have faded with time. But because he wrote about it, that strange, unsettling feeling now has a place to live. It isn’t just a memory anymore. It has become a poem.
I don’t think any of this would have happened if we didn’t have a group gently expecting one piece of writing every week.
That small commitment pushed us to notice our lives differently. Ordinary moments slowly became stories worth telling.
Along the way, we also discovered so many forms of writing. Poems. Memoir. Family stories. Photo books with reflections. Honest personal essays. Stories from times we weren’t even born into. Feelings that sometimes conflicted with who we thought we were.
The beauty of this group isn’t just accountability.
It’s having a small, intimate space where I can be myself, where unfinished thoughts are welcome, and where writing becomes less about producing something for the world and more about paying attention to my own life.
**UPDATE: Mark and Linh are starting UnearthedPages - a tiny writing circle for anyone who wishes to start with writing even if it’s just for them. The course is feedback-driven, and you can choose from 4 weeks to 8 weeks. You can join the free info session on Friday 7th August 8:30 pm PST / Saturday 8th August 1:30 pm AEST to learn more.
Take a Little Pause 🌼
Writing has reminded me that the most meaningful stories aren’t always waiting in extraordinary moments. Sometimes they’re tucked away inside ordinary days, waiting for a little attention and a space where they feel safe to emerge.
What helps you reconnect with the quieter parts of yourself? And how might you make that practice a gentle part of your everyday life?
If you feel like sharing, I am all ears.
Sketch what you read
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— Jeevan, Product Designer, BTV - April 2026
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The two things that resonated most with me were:
1. It's refreshing to see a group where the emphasis is to create something rather than to publish something. It feels more authentic to me. I also appreciate this because it's my approach to processing the world around me.
2. You've really nailed the fun magnet idea. It's awesome seeing illustrations integrated in real life. They do a ton of heavy lifting. Even now, as I stare at this comment section, I can recall the illustrations perfectly while the words don't stick in the same way.
I love the first illustration, your constructive feedback helps shine a light on more areas for me to discover creatively.
Thank you for being the drumbeat of our weekly writing Rachna, we owe a lot of this creation to you sharing first on many weeks :)