The Highly Sensitive Writer

Substack, infinite information, and nervous system torture

Illustration by Stephanie Davidson, written by Rae Katz

I have written before about Highly Sensitive People, people who have a set of genetic traits that cause us to be more sensitive to external stimuli than the general population. When I learned about HSPs in my thirties, it explained a phenomenon that had dominated my adulthood (and still does): many experiences, like watching a scary movie or going to a big conference, have always seemed way more intense to me than they do to other people.

In my previous post, I detailed some of the information about HSPs that gave me an enormous sense of relief—learning, for example, that around 20 percent of people and the same percentage of many other mammals are born with this genetic predisposition. I’m not a wild aberration, but a part of a strong minority. At the time, I wrote about my first encounter with a website for HSPs:

The website described HSPs as people whose nervous systems are more sensitive to all stimuli. We take in more information and process it more deeply. The result is that we both notice more about the world around us, and also become overwhelmed more quickly from stimuli that others would find completely tolerable. With even just this small window into the workings of myself, I felt transformed from something broken into something interesting.

Recently, I’ve been noticing the HSP topic pop up here and there, including on

Substack

. I’ve been noticing how many of us on here identify with this descriptor, and how high sensitivity is also a hallmark of living on the spectrum—and how writers on the spectrum also very often have something special to say. And I’ve started wondering if perhaps I didn’t take my line of thinking far enough last time, because it felt too braggadocios. But I’m convinced it’s true: high sensitivity is nothing less than a primary ingredient of a great writer.

Advisors and Kings

“For better and worse,” writes Elaine Aron, the first researcher to identify the HSP trait, “The world is increasingly under control of aggressive cultures—those that look outward, to expand, to compete and win. This is because, when cultures come in contact, the more aggressive ones naturally take over.” This phenomenon, she claims, has led to a long history of dominant cultures led by the Warrior King type: outward looking, aggressive, and action-oriented. If you’re like me, you might let out a big sigh of recognition here. Recognition of someone else, though: the winners, not you.

However. These warrior king societies, observes Aron, always include a strong so-called “priest-judge-advisor” class. The advisors balance the action-orientation by insisting on stopping and giving the whole deal some serious consideration. “HSPs tend to fill that advisor role,” writes Aron. “We are the writers, historians, philosophers, judges, artists, researchers, theologians, therapists, teachers, parents, and plain conscious citizens. What we bring to any of these roles is a tendency to think about all possible effects of an idea.”

I would never have said this so bluntly two years ago, but our own warrior king-dominated society needs these highly sensitive advisors; we need the thinking and sensing people to balance the equation.

Because what would the world be like without these sensitive thinkers? Well, I believe it would tend towards a more fast-paced, less considered approach to everything. As a default, that does seem easier. “Adrift in the noise and bustle,” writes Meghan O’Rourke, “we duck confrontation with the metaphysical and existential. We avoid the enduring regret at how we treated an old, estranged friend, the fear that our life has been a project of self-delusion—that its gilded hand-stitched brocade may in fact be moth-eaten. Who wants to think about all that, really?”

Well, actually, we do. The sensitives do. It kind of sucks sometimes. But thank goodness we go there, because this kind of thinking is the foundation of a deep soul, IMHO.

Sensitivity and the writing practice

It is almost too obvious a connection between sensitivity and writing, but worth stating: if you observe the world more closely, you probably have more interesting and original things to say about it. One of my favorite generative writing exercises for nonfiction and memoir comes from Lisa Dale Norton’s book, Shimmering Images. When approaching stories about our lives, Norton encourages us not to go back and tell the story from the beginning, but to let the most fiery details float back up to the surface from our well of subconscious memory. She calls these hot, remembered moments “shimmering images.”

Here’s my version combining some of her exercises:

1. Set a timer for ten minutes and list out any images/moments/scenes that come up related to the time period or theme of interest.

2. Pick the hottest, most shimmering image from the list. Set another timer, and on a piece of blank paper, draw the scene. It doesn’t matter how shitty your drawing skills are. The act of hand moving on paper tends to bring up more remembered details.

3. Set another timer and write the scene, now pulling from a rich pool of memory.

Now consider someone who generally notices more, and spends more time processing, or making connections between events and ideas. In just this exercise, this person’s initial list of scenes will be more varied, making more connections between experiences, likely more capable of identifying the points of interest in a long history filled with many unremarkable stretches of time. Her list will probably also be longer, since she tends to remember more. Her drawing will be more detailed and probably include more surprising elements, noticed by that sensitive brain. This will all yield prose that is more original, more incisive, and generally more interesting.

This does not mean that HSPs are born writers. It does not mean that less sensitive types can’t write. It does not diminish the importance of craft and practice and more practice. But it does point out the power of being sensitive, particularly for a writer.

Sensitivity on Substack

I have seen many grateful comments from writers about the slower pace of Substack, the calmer vibes, and my guess is these are emanating from the sensitives (and my other guess is that there are more of us on here than in the general population). I have also seen grieving comments about the introduction of Notes and the ticking up of pace demanded by newsletter writing (I have written about this myself). At the end of the day I don’t think this is really about Substack, but rather about the innate tension between being an HSP and the experience of the internet. Oh, you’re someone who reacts to every bit of external stimuli with a bigger-than-average nervous system response, and you commit more attention and mental energy to every piece of information you see? Cool! Here’s literally infinity pieces of information, many of them stated very forcefully, in an arena where loudest and most frequent voice wins. Have fun!

Yeah, so obviously this won’t go very well for us. Acknowledging this reality has been very helpful for me. It is not that I don’t have enough grit and sticktuitiveness to just buckle down and bellow out my opinions more often, thus growing a big-ass following and becoming Successful. It’s that the experience of shouting my inner thoughts into an abyss of other voices on the internet is, for me, nervous system torture.

And when I start feeling bad about this (often), I return to my journals, which I have been keeping on and off for the last nineteen years, building my observational skills. I look back at my sixteen-year-old self with admiration. Look at this little sensitive observer advisor being formed:

“The chart would have to be like a mile long.”

And with that timeless wisdom, I leave you.

—Rae

I have to ask…

• Do you consider yourself a Highly Sensitive Person? Raise your hand ✋

• What measures do you take to safeguard or soothe your nervous system in the face of the internet’s infinite information? ♾ ℹ️

Join me in the comments!