Headphones and Notebooks

I’m relatively new to podcasts. By which I mean I’ve only really started listening to them in the last year or so. Before that, they didn’t make all that much sense to me if I’m honest. I had friends recommend them to me, suggest certain ones to look out for, and I was definitely intrigued by the suggestions. But real life got in the way, as it often frustratingly does, and the idea of a podcast seemed so foreign to me that I could never bring myself to make the time for it. I mean, it’s listening to a bunch of people you can’t see; as someone who rarely listens to the radio it didn’t really appeal. Until, one day, it did. You see, back in the beginning of 2018, I got hooked on The Good Place on Netflix. And once I was hooked, I stumbled across the fact the show had an accompanying podcast hosted by actor Marc Evan Jackson. It piqued my interest, but I admit I forgot about it fairly quickly. Until, a few weeks later, it danced across my Twitter feed again and I clicked the l

Most writers know that writing can be cathartic. Whether you’ve had an argument with a close friend, gone through a break-up, suffered a loss in the family, or are generally just feeling the stress and anxieties of life, writing can be a good way to cope. But in an age where it’s very easy to share our creative endeavours online, how far should we go with writing as therapy? It’s tempting, when you’ve finished a piece your proud of, to want to show it to people. However, I’m not convinced that that’s what we should do with every piece of therapy writing. I, like a lot of writers, often write when I need to get out of my head for a bit. It’s a great way to unwind, to think about other things, and generally put myself in a better mood. But one thing I don’t do is reread or edit my work while I’m still in the same mindset. What I mean by that is that if I write something after an argument with a friend and I’m feeling angry or need to rant, I don’t then edit it after another