Writing for the Unheard

I am a Sociologist of the Unheard, advocating for people whose experiences are misunderstood, misrepresented, overlooked or silenced. I ask: what happens when people’s stories do not fit the usual scripts and expectations? Focusing on the unheard reveals what occurs when people are not recognised or listened to. It brings together my longstanding work on absence, loss and different ways of being; my current work on the micro‑politics of everyday encounters; and my commitment to ethical attention, relational understanding and emotionally honest scholarship. Working auto/biographically I connect personal experience with sociological concerns of wellbeing, value and relational ethics to trace how otherhood accumulates across a life, and highlight too complexity of experience, through revealing both the harm and the transformative potential therein. 

In 1959 the American sociologist Charles Wright Mills’ (1959: 204) argued that: ‘The social scientist is not some autonomous being standing outside society, the question is where he (sic) stands within it. . .’ I agree with this and that we should: 

. . . learn to use [our] life experience in your intellectual work: continually to examine it and interpret it. In this sense craftsmanship (sic) is the centre of yourself and you are personally involved in every intellectual product upon which you work (Mills, 1959: 216).

I believe that an explicit auto/biographical approach not only illuminates the social location of the writer, thus making clear the author’s role in constructing rather than discovering the knowledge produced (Stanley, 1993; Letherby, 2020, 2022), but also encourages reflection on power relationships within research and scholarship (Letherby, 2020). Furthermore, auto/biographical sociological study, either focusing on one, several or many lives, highlights the need to liberate the individual from individualism; to demonstrate how individuals are social selves always in relation to others (highlighted by the / in auto/biography) (Ribbens 1993; Morgan,1998; Letherby, 2018, 2022).

 

Laurel Richardson (2001: 34) calls for academics to ‘get personal’ by ‘writing-stories that situate . . . [our] work in sociopolitical, familial, and academic climates’. For Richardson ‘[w]riting is a method of discovery, a way of finding out about yourself and your world’ (ibid). I take this further and increasingly believe that writing is, for me at least, part of a ‘politics of belonging’ (Yuval-Davis 2006, Monbiot 2017) – who I am, what I value, where I stand, how I want to be viewed by others.

 

A few years ago in a paper focusing specifically on personal experiences of bereavement and loss (Letherby, 2015) I wrote about (amongst other things): how a personal loss resulted in me finding Sociology and in turn how Sociology has affected the way I understand and experience loss. My concern was with how my own experiences motivated and influenced my personal research journey AND in turn how said research has impacted on my life. Auto/Biographical work, I argue, including creative auto/biographical storytelling enables meaningful reflection of one story, many stories, unique stories and collective stories. Such work highlights differences and encourages us to make connections. It challenges traditional practices and dominant discourses, it affirms and celebrates the real-world life experience of individuals and groups. It is a powerful tool for telling academic stories in different ways and is valuable because along with other creative practices it; ‘harnesses our emotions and captures the imagination, and so helps us to see the world through a different lens, or to reimagine it in a different way (Blackie, 2022: 148).

 

In a 2025 conference paper entitled ‘Living to Write or Writing to Live?’ (Letherby, 2025) I spoke about my own motivation for, commitment to, and experience of, writing. I spoke of how much of my writing is strongly connected to personal issues of loss, love and legacy and, with reference to the broader political concerns, my aim is to raise attention to experiences and identities that are often misunderstood, misrepresented, silenced. In reflecting further on my writing experiences I drew on the Japanese concept of ikigai. On first (and second….) reading ikigai seemed appropriate to my philosophy of life and work. Ikigai is often depicted, as the intersection of four elements; that is:

             What you love

What you are good at

What you can be paid for

What the world needs

 

Imagine my distress when I discovered that this version of the concept is actually cultural appropriation. In the West ikigai is most commonly understood as a model of, and for, ‘purpose’. Popularised in blogs and through TED talks it is linked to career success, monetisation, and productivity. It is even possible to train to be an Ikigai coach so that one can help others achieve success. The book Ikigai ni Tsuite (1966) – translated as that which makes life worth living - written by Meiko Kamiya, oft called the ‘mother of ikigai’, remains largely untranslated. For Kamiya ikigai is modest, shifting and situational and can be found in relationships, hobbies, rituals, and in small and transient pleasures. Here ikigai refers to the small joys and reasons for living found in daily life; enjoying morning sunlight, sharing meals, drinking tea, feeling connected to others. In its original conception ikigai is a state of mind or a way of being rather than a grand mission; appreciating one’s own existence, rather than chasing a singular life purpose for external, measurable, validation. 

My initial disappointment that the concept was not what I though, was quickly followed by feelings of foolishness and guilt that I’d been seduced by a seemingly attractive and affirming self-goal, which is in fact a neoliberal reframing of a kinder, more powerfully centring, philosophy of life. Yet, there is a tension. In my writing I attempt to raise the voices of those who are less represented, less heard. I believe that the work, which includes but is not limited to the writing, I do, is of value. The feedback I receive suggests that others think so too. It is certainly of worth to me in helping me to think through feelings and theories, to work out what I know and do not know, where I stand, what I believe I and others can do to, in at least some small ways, make the world a better place. There is great fulfilment and pleasure in all of this. And yet I know that not everyone has the resources to express themselves the way I have, and continue to do. Nor does everyone feel the need to share their story as I have and do. My choices are not better than anyone else’s. What they are though is situational and contextual, shaped by circumstance and environment, and rooted, as I expressed earlier, in personal loss, love and legacy. 

I accept the contradictions I feel. I admit to still being drawn in part to the Western idea of ikigai, whilst at the same time resisting the pressure it engenders. I value the original focus on ‘what makes life worth living’ (Kamiya 1966). For me writing is one such thing.

On reading further I find myself drawn not only to ikigai but also to wabi-sabi and kokoro. Wabi-sabi refers to an aesthetic and ethical sensibility that values impermanence, modesty, and imperfection while kokoro refers to the heart‑mind: the emotional, moral, and relational core through which we acknowledge and respond to the world. Put simply kokoro gestures towards a life well-lived. 

When read together, wabi-sabi and kokoro offer a way of understanding how perception and feeling are essential to meaning making; a central concept with Sociology. Read alongside wabi-sabi and kokoro, ma adds another dimension. Ma resists a neoliberal ideology by honouring the interval, the unfilled, unproductive pause, the silence, where perception slows and relational meaning becomes possible. Together these concepts suggest an ethic of attending gently, responding sincerely, and allowing the world’s imperfections to meet an equally imperfect but receptive self. This way of thinking helps me with my long‑standing commitment to the unheard. Wabi‑sabi teaches me to value the cracks and fractures in the stories people are told not to tell. Kokoro reminds me that listening to the unheard requires emotional presence as much as analytical skill. Ma shows me that silence, so often imposed on marginalised lives, can also be reclaimed as a space of recognition and becoming. And ikigai helps me understand why I return, again and again, to writing with, and for, those whose experiences are dismissed, diminished, or denied. I am learning that these concepts do not replace my sociological commitments; they deepen them. They offer language, texture, and ethical grounding for the work I have always done; attending to experiences and the lives that dominant frameworks overlook, and insisting that they matter.

I am enjoying this engagement with alternative epistemologies although I recognise my analysis as ‘basic’ and aim to learn more. I understand that Japanese culture is not monolithic, not inevitably more harmonious or anti‑neoliberal. My aim is to approach these ideas with cultural appreciation while remaining attentive to the risks of cultural appropriation

Beth Kempton, a British Japanologist, has written about both wabi-sabi and kokoro. For Kempton: 

Writing, just like any other creative act, is an instrument of the kokoro (2024: 148).

In a book entitled The Way of the Fearless Writer (Kempton, 2022) she suggests: 

We tend to put writing into categories, but writing is about so much more than putting words on paper in a certain format or with a particular purpose. It’s about listening. It’s about opening. And it’s about accessing what lives below the surface so that the ink spills beauty, insights, stories and truth….

Writing can be medicine for our modern ills. It can be a tool to help us excavate our lives and begin to understand ourselves and others. It can help us grapple with desire, navigate change, cope with stress, celebrate, offer thanks, grieve, heal, and inspire others…. (p6-7).

And: 

We just have to keep showing up with courage, humility and grace as we cross the threshold between the mundane and the sacred every single time we choose to write, never quite knowing what will happen next (p221).

I have been told that my writing is brave, that I am brave. I have also been told, by some academic colleagues, that my writing is untheoretical, self‑indulgent, even self‑promotional. These more negative views I challenge across all of my work. I argue, insist even, that we need more auto/biographical stories of misunderstood and misrepresented statuses and experiences, not fewer. As indicated here my recent research and reading is helping me to reflect even further on why this matters, why this is so. Wabi‑sabi reminds me that imperfection is not a flaw but a meaningful part of lived experience, a unique beauty that has its own and equal value. Kokoro affirms that acknowledging the emotional within the intellectual is not a methodological weakness but an ethical stance. Ma legitimises the pauses, hesitations, and silences that shape my work and ikigai helps me to articulate that my writing is not a performance of bravery but rather something I am drawn to; something ‘I can’t not do… like drawing breath.’

References

Blackie, S. (2022) Hagitude: Reimagining the Second Half of lLfe London: September Publishing. 

Kamiya, M. (1966) Ikigai ni Tsuite, Tokyo: Misuzu Shobo.

Kempton, B. (2022) The Way of the Fearless Writer London: Piatkus.

Kempton, B. (2024) Kokoro: Japanese Wisdom for a Life Well Lived London: Piatkus.

Letherby, G. (2015) ‘Bathwater, babies and other losses: a personal and academic story’ Mortality: Promoting the Interdisciplinary Study of Death and Dying 20(2):128–144.

Letherby, G. (2018) The Sociological Imagination and Feminist Auto/Biographical Approaches’ in Matthews, C,  Edgington,  U. Channon,  A. (eds.) Tales of Teaching with Sociological Imagination Singapore: Springer Press pp153-169.

 

Letherby, G. (2020) ‘Gendered-Sensitive Method/ologies’ in Robinson, C. and Richardson, D. (eds.) Introducing Gender and Women’s Studies (5^th edition) London: Palgrave, pp58-75.

 

Letherby, G. (2022) ‘Thirty Years and Counting: An-other auto/biographical story’ Auto/Biography Review 3(1): 13–31.

 

Letherby, G. (2025) ‘Living to Write or Writing to Live?’ The Contemporary Women's Writing Association (CWWA), Annual Conference (Falmouth University, June).

 

Mills, C. W. (1959) The Sociological Imagination. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 

 

Monbiot, G. (2017) Out of the Wreckage: A New Politics for an Age of Crisis London: Verso Books. 

Morgan, D. (1998) 'Sociological Imagination and Imagining Sociologies: bodies, auto/biographies and other mysteries' Sociology 32(4): 647-663.ociological Imaginations and

.

 

Ribbens, J. (1993)  ‘Facts  or  Fiction?:  aspects  of  the  use  of  autobiographical  writing  in undergraduate sociology’ Sociology 27(1): 81-92.

 

Richardson, L. (1994) ‘Writing: a method of inquiry’ in N. Denzin and Y. Lincoln (eds.) A Handbook of Qualitative Research (1^st Edition) Thousand Oaks: Sage pp516-529. 

Stanley, L. (1993) ‘On Auto/Biography in Sociology’ Sociology 27(1): 41-52.

Yuval-Davis, N. (2006) ‘Belonging and the politics of belonging’ Patterns of Prejudice 40(3): 195-214. 

Spring and Early Summer Work

I’ve had a busy and enjoyable few weeks mostly facilitating writing retreats and creative writing for academics workshops (with a conference paper thrown into the mix too): 

Academic Writing Retreat for colleagues from the Institute of Education, Sciences, University of Plymouth (14^th-15^th May 2025) 

Academic Writing Retreat for colleagues from the Faculty of Liberal Arts and Sciences, University of Greenwich (2^nd-5^th June 2025) 

‘Auto/Biographical Reflections on Death and Loss Across the Lifecourse (some personal reflections and discussion of publishing opportunities)’ (Workshop) Centre for Death and Dying (CDAS) University of Bath Annual Conference (13^th June 2025) 

‘Creative Writing for Academics: methodologies, motivations and impacts’ Workshop for the International Security and Sustainability and the Gender Research Group, Nottingham Trent University (17^th June 2025) 

You’re a Woman who Writes: Workshop on navigating your writing identity (with Bethan Michael-Fox, Open University and Halle Merrick, Falmouth University) Contemporary Women’s Writing Association Conference, Falmouth University (18^th June 2025) 

‘Living to Write or Writing to Live’: one woman’s reflections’ Paper presented at the Contemporary Women’s Writing Association Conference, Falmouth University (18^th June 2025) 

More to come in the next few weeks… 

If you are interested in knowing about Retreats and Workshops please take a look at my website www.gayle.letherby.co.uk OR email me at: gayle.letherby@plymouth.ac.uk enquires@gayle-letherby.co.uk 

*** 

I often start Retreats and Workshops with a free-writing exercise. Free-writing has many benefits and can help the writer to:   

•      Get something on a blank page / warm up the writing muscles

•      Overcome inner censors

•      Follow a stream of consciousness without trying for logic

•      Move away from other kinds of writing (academic, correspondence, professional etc)

It can enable us to:  

•      Find the/OUR ‘self’ in our writing

•      Discover thoughts we generally keep deeply hidden

•      Write Ourself/ves out of a block or bind

•      Get to know a character / play with a new idea 

The writing doesn’t need to make sense, can be clumsy and cliched, repetitive and contradictory…. The ‘aim’ (but as I’ve said there are no rules) is to keep writing including … or ‘I’m stuck’ or similar, rather than stopping. Free-writing can be done with pen and paper, or on a phone or a laptop. It can include images in addition to words. 

Sometimes, as I’ve written previously, I follow this exercise with one were participants use some of the words shared by others to write a piece of memoir or fiction, a poem or a song… Here’s the piece I wrote at one of the workshops above with the words of others underlined: 

It’s a beautiful afternoon; full of sunshine, seagulls and lawnmowers. I’m indoors, not stuck, but happily so, not engaging in procrastination, but writing alongside my workshop participants for this exercise I’ve set: ‘write something, anything, using at least eight words from others’. I’m on Teams. The workshop participants are together in a room at their institution. We’ve got past the inevitable technical hiccup and all in quiet and calm. There’s cake for them.  I’ve just expressed my feelings of disappointment at not being able to share in the treat. It’s enriching to be with people in this way. To be working together, thinking together like this about different ways to work, to share beyond the traditional quoting and counting. To find order or bring creative chaos. Everything, anything is possible. What a positive way to spend an afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Playing ‘Consequences’ at Writing Retreats and Workshops

Do you remember playing ‘Consequences’ as a child, or maybe even more recently? In case not, and briefly: each player is given a sheet of paper, and everyone writes down the first line of a story. They then fold the paper over so their words cannot be seen and pass the paper on to the next/another player who writes the second line of their story … and so it continues until a decision is made to read the stories out. There are variations, which are a bit more prescriptive with reference to characters or events for example. There’s a picture version too; the first person draws a head, the next the top part of the torso and so on until the knees and toes are reached and the ‘person’ is completed. Not surprisingly it’s also possible now to play the game online. But the paper and pen ‘let’s create a free-style story’ is the version I remember playing myself.

At a Creative Writing Workshop I facilitated at the Fish Factory Arts Space in Penryn, Cornwall, towards the end of last year I decided to adapt the ‘Consequences’ game I remember as an warm up exercise. I asked participants to:

•      Write a little about yourself: For example, your interests, job, passions, favourite place, food, hobby…

Fold and pass on.

•      Write a couple of sentences about you motivations for coming to the workshops and your hopes for this evening…

Fold and pass on

•      Write or paraphrase a line or two from a favourite book, poem, film, song…

Fold and pass on. Reveal and read.

It worked quite well as an icebreaker and a few participants read out the 'story' in front of them before we moved on to other exercises. I wasn’t completely satisfied though and felt that more might be done with the game.

A few weeks ago I facilitated an Academic Writing Retreat for Medical Education colleagues at the University of Plymouth. I always include two or three ‘creative interludes’ in more traditional writing retreats and have found these to be useful in a number of ways; not least in pausing from academic writing convention and shaking up the writing muscles a little.  Mid-afternoon on the first day of two the interlude was a game of ‘Consequences’. This time the instructions were a little different. Thus:

Write about three aspects of your academic story. After completing each part fold the paper over and pass to someone else (not necessarily the person next to you).

 

•      Your job title, or a previous one. 

•      A sentence or two on your current role. 

•     A short paragraph; three or four sentences, on what you are working on today (and tomorrow) …

Next I asked participants to pass on once more before revealing the story of the composite person in front of  them. 

There was a second part to the exercise this time. Thus: 

In EIGHT MINUTES Write something, for a non-academic audience, about the ‘story’ in front of you…

•  a press release
• a review
• a piece of fiction/poem/song
• OR?

The results were amazing and included an advert for a wellness retreat as well as songs, poems and more. Here is a Rap written by my friend and colleague Tracey Collett:

AN ODE TO SCHOLARSHIP

I’m an AP* in a Medical School.

I teach Anatomy,

from the toes to the head.

But that’s not all.

No I’m a super human being.

I’m the roots of the Anatomy scene.

IN-CLU-SI-VI-TY,

is the name of my game.

TECHNOLOGY,

things will not remain the same.

 

I’m an AP in a Medical School.

I’ve got an MD.

I’m an AP in a Medical School.

I’ve got an MD.

But, it hasn’t gone to my head.

 

I’m thinking about the humans that I see

Working and developing a new Philosophy.

What do students value?

How do students learn?

My work is going to lead to an educational turn.

 

This is an ode to the scholarly ship.

It’s leading to change and it’s really the pip.

*AP – Associate Professor

 

A week later towards the end of a Creative Writing Workshop with a group of community food researchers (again in Plymouth), I asked participants to respond to the following (again hiding their writing from view before passing the paper on to another person in the room), this time introducing drawing, sketching, time-lines and body maps alongside words:

•  A fact about you that people here might not know about. 
•  A sentence or two/image from one of your pieces today. 
•  A short paragraph or pictorial representation of –  your particular passions and concerns with reference to the issues we are focusing on today (or  not).
• PASS ON and REVEAL. 

 And then: 

Produce something (using words and/or images) for a non-academic audience, about the ‘story’ in front of you…

• a pen portrait
• an I-poem / a life/body map 
• a piece of fiction/poem/song

 

Again the results were wonderful, creative, thought provoking, emotionally evocative.

 

 ***

Playing ‘Consequences’, and playing with the idea of ‘Consequences’, has reminded me yet again how much fun creative writing/working can be and that the possibilities of what we might do and how we might do it are endless. Why not get a group of friends together and have a go…

 Creative Imaginings of Space and Place at Fish Factory Art Space, Penryn 

I've very much wanted to get involved in more local community arts events in or close to my home town of Falmouth and I'm very grateful to the Fish Factory Art Space, Penryn, Cornwall for helping me achieve this. On Sunday 27th October 2024 I facilitated a creative writing workshop focusing on Space and Place. Amongst other exercises we played about with free writing, responded to pictorial prompts, proverbs and song titles and spent some time imagining the connections and the differences between space(s) and place(s). As well as writing there was quite a lot of (focused) chatting and sharing and a bit of art work too. Some wonderful pieces were produced. 

Personally I enjoyed the afternoon enormously and I'm really looking forward to the next workshop I'm running on the 27th of November. This one is aimed specifically at academics and activists. You can sign up here if you're local to the area and interested (and be sure to check out all the other great events and exhibitions at the Fish Factory) https://www.fishfactoryarts.space/

One other lovely thing has been seeing posters advertising the workshops all through the town; in arts shops and bakeries, even on the counter of a cafe and pasty shop that I often pop into. . 

Writing Found Poems

I sometimes include Found Poetry in my Creative Writing Workshops and (Creative) Academic Writing Retreats. Found poetry/poems is a great way to pay with existing texts and the source can come from anywhere; newspaper articles, letters, books, online sites, research data and more. In my sessions I sometimes ask participants to go back to something that they have written earlier in the session with me to create a poem or two.

Others who advocate the practice consider the Found Poem to be the literary equivalent of a collage and some poets have incorporated snippets of found texts into larger poems. Poets well known for writing Found Poetry include Charles Reznikoff, Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot. Click on the link below to read an interesting example of a Found Poem focusing on patient experience. Created by Fiona Hamilton the text is taken from quotes from qualitative interviews https://bjgp.org/content/72/724/538

The twelve word Found Poem is one of my favourites. I am grateful to Professor Ceri Morgan (a researcher-practitioner who works on literary geographies, place-writing and participatory arts)  who introduced me to this at a creative writing workshop she led at a conference I attended at Keele University. Prof Morgan devised this version for Ben Anderson's AHRC-funded project, 'Planned Creativity'. The format goes:

 

WORD

WORD WORD

WORD WORD WORD

WORD WORD WORD

WORD WORD

WORD

Here are a couple of my own. The first is written from one of three conference papers I gave in the summer the title of which was Sociable Solitude: exploring some alternative ways of being and moving with others:

 

Solitude,

not loneliness.

Connections, relationships, networks

kindness, care, love.

Creativity, freedom.

Imaginations.

 

And the second from a paper entitled The Self and Sensation: some thoughts on older women and masturbation (I’m nothing if not eclectic). I cheated a bit with this one and made it thirteen words (but why not).

 

Taboo.

(To) avoid intimacy?

Substitute? Transgressive? Unruly?

Satisfaction. Pleasure. Healthy.

Positive images.

Real.

 

Why not have a go at writing some of your own Found Poetry, either from other pieces you have written or from the back of a cereal packet or a train ticket, or  ….

An Activist Now

 

As readers of my blog will know when I run a Creative Writing for Academics event I always try to write at least one thing myself. Mostly my time is spent introducing,  timing and discussing the exercises I set but I usually mange to at least begin a piece of writing. Last week I had the pleasure of attending the British Sociological Association, Auto/Biography Study Group 2024 summer conference (10^th-12^th July) and in addition to presenting a paper I ran a workshop entitled Writing Through, and Out of, Disappointments and Dissonances. ‘Disappointments and Dissonances’ was the theme of the conference. From a free-writing starter exercise I asked participants to write something including at least eight words included in the free-writing of others. I wrote a poem (with my chosen words highlighted in bold), inspired by friend and colleague Christine Lewis’ wonderful paper Tokitae: turning a life of disappointments and dissonances into joy.

 

An Activist Now

A coffee in hand,

I’m on my way.

 

Trying to cut out the noise,

Yet embrace the emotions.

I’m on my way.

 

So much evidence.

But still SO many questions.

I’m on my way.

 

An activist now,

Who’d have thought it.

I’m on my way.

 

A reaction to the loss.

A need to search for meaning.

An attempt to find some healing.

 

It might take some time but,

I’m on my way.

And that, is enough for now.

 

Exercises such as this both stimulate the writing muscles and encourage us to perhaps write in different ways, outside of the traditionally academic, which can help not least in reaching and engaging wider audiences. Following a recent Academic Writing Retreat (to which participants bring their own projects to work on but within which I include two or three short ‘creative interludes’ each day) one participant said:

I loved the creative writing exercises! I was actually longing for them and planned my writing/work so that a section would be finished in time for the next one. My creative juices are overflowing at the moment.

It is worth noting too that these exercises are guides rather than prescribed activities which participants might adapt or twist to their own particular interests and concerns.

Creativity rules!

#CreativeAcademicCoaching

www.gayle-letherby.co.uk