WRITING FICTION

Let’s face it. Writing fiction is weird.

It’s sitting alone in a room, muttering to yourself, typing like a maniac, drinking a fifth Red Bull while whispering things like, “No, Sandra wouldn’t kill him… unless—wait, yes she WOULD.”

To outsiders, it might look like you're spiraling. But inside your skull? Absolute fireworks. Plot twists! Emotional arcs! That scene where the cat talks! Fiction writing, my friends, is not just a hobby—it’s therapy for the part of your brain that refuses to color inside the lines.

So let’s talk about it. Not the structured, academic “Writing Fiction as a Tool for Psychological Healing” version. Nah. We’re getting into the delightfully unhinged, mildly therapeutic, and absolutely soul-satisfying reasons why writing fiction is basically the couch session your creative brain always wanted.

You Can Exorcise Your Inner Drama Queen (Without a Court Order)

We all have feelings. Big ones. Small ones. Sometimes unnecessarily dramatic ones. (“The barista smiled at me. Could this be fate?”) Life hands you all these intense experiences and gives you... what? A polite nod and a vague sense of emotional constipation?

Fiction is how we unclog the drain.

Instead of texting your ex something you’ll regret, you write a character who ghosted a warlock and got turned into a goat. Instead of yelling at your boss, you create a villainous overlord with a suspiciously familiar management style who gets eaten by sentient paperwork.

Boom. Emotional release. No legal consequences.

Your Imagination Gets a Safe Playground

The creative part of your brain is like a Labrador puppy with a Red Bull addiction. It wants to run, explore, dig holes, chase squirrels, and chew the couch cushions of logic. If you don’t give it a proper outlet, it’s going to start inventing problems at 2 a.m. like, “What if I never accomplish anything and die alone next to expired hummus?”

Fiction writing gives that puppy a safe backyard.

Want to write about space pirates who steal emotions? Do it. A haunted laundromat? Yes. A love triangle between a human, a ghost, and a gluten-free baker? Absolutely.

The more ridiculous, the better. Writing fiction keeps the wild part of your brain entertained—and off WebMD.

It’s Cheaper Than Therapy and You Can Do It in Pajamas

Let’s be real: therapy is amazing. But it’s also expensive and often booked solid until approximately the next solar eclipse. Fiction writing, on the other hand? Free. Accessible. And no one blinks if you show up in your sad hoodie with yesterday’s mascara still running down your cheeks.

In fiction, you can cry, rant, confess, scream, laugh, fall in love, and then kill off a character just to feel something. You can journal your heartbreak through a post-apocalyptic romance or explore childhood trauma via a talking raccoon named Carl.

It’s like therapy, but with more plot twists and fewer co-pays.

You Get to Play Demi-God (Not Really, But Kind of… ?)

In fiction, you rule the universe. You decide who gets the promotion, who falls in love, who discovers the magical amulet in their cereal box. It’s a power trip, but it’s also healing.

Did real life hand you a heartbreak? Fiction lets you rewrite it. Did someone underestimate you? Your protagonist just conquered a kingdom with nothing but a spork and a sarcastic comment.

Fiction lets you reclaim your narrative—literally. And you get to do it in full dramatic glory, complete with slow-motion rain scenes and triumphant orchestral swells (in your head, anyway).

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served on Paper

Some people forgive and forget. Fiction writers take notes.

You can’t slash your neighbor’s tires just because he keeps stealing your parking spot—but you can write a short story where a character named Greg, who suspiciously resembles your neighbor, is abducted by raccoons and forced to attend squirrel court for eternity.

Petty? Maybe.

Therapeutic? Extremely.

You Finally Get to Be Heard Without Interruptions

Let’s be honest—how often do you get to speak your mind fully, without someone cutting you off with, “Oh that reminds me of my thing…”?

Writing fiction means you get to finish the sentence. You get to tell the whole story. You get to dig deep into ideas, fears, themes, and what-ifs without anyone hijacking your thought train.

Even if no one reads it but your cat, the process of putting words on paper is a kind of affirmation. You’re saying, “This idea matters. This emotion deserves space. This story counts.”

And that’s powerful.

You Discover Parts of Yourself You Didn’t Know Were in There

Writers often start with a plot idea and end up staring at the screen whispering, “Oh no… I think I just wrote my own emotional baggage into a wizard.”

Fiction has a way of sneaking past your defenses. You think you're writing a rom-com about a fake engagement, and suddenly you’re unpacking your fear of vulnerability. Surprise! The story is about you!

And that’s the beauty of it. Fiction peels back the layers, sometimes gently, sometimes like a Band-Aid being ripped off by a caffeinated squirrel. Either way, you come out knowing yourself a little better.

It’s Wildly Entertaining (Even When It’s a Hot Mess)

Listen, writing fiction can be an emotional rollercoaster. One minute you’re weeping over your main character’s death (that you wrote, you maniac), and the next you’re laughing at a typo that turned “she wore a silk blouse” into “she wore a sick mouse.”

But even when it’s messy, disjointed, or completely nonsensical—it’s fun. Fiction reminds us that creativity doesn’t have to be perfect to be meaningful. Sometimes just the act of making something is healing in itself.

You’re not curing cancer. You’re inventing a zombie bakery. And that’s okay.

Final Word: It's Just a Salad

So, is writing fiction therapy?

Not in the traditional sense. There are no degrees, couches, or billing codes. But for the creative side of your brain—the chaotic, emotional, slightly-too-invested-in-dinosaurs part—it’s a lifeline.

Fiction writing is where we go to make sense of the mess, reframe the pain, laugh at ourselves, and find bits of truth buried in a mountain of made-up madness.

And honestly? That’s pretty therapeutic.

Now grab your pen, your keyboard, or your favorite glittery journal. Let your brain do its thing. Let the dragons fly. Let the romance bloom. Let the villain try to talk his way out of space jail.

You’ll feel better afterward. Pinky promise.