Why's it so hard to write about joy?

A personal investigation

Robert Henri, Laughing Child, 1907.

“Joy is not an easy subject to articulate. We seem to be a lot better at talking about sorrow. But we have to learn to speak about joy, because joy is the great reward for those who take up the cross and follow Jesus.”

-Henri Nouwen (Following Jesus, 92)

When I first began writing, way back when my hairline was still strong, my dad used to say to me, “You should try to be happier when you write.” I wrote it off (pun intended). I said, “To death with joy! Long live the suffering artist!”

Just kidding. I think what I actually said was that life was hard and a writer needed to reflect that; you couldn’t be merry and rosy all the time because there are real people suffering in this world, and I am sometimes one of them. It is important to reflect the realities of life.

Now is a time of joy in the church calendar, however. It is a time set apart to celebrate the coming of joy in the form of a baby. It is right and good and holy and noble to speak of joy, so I find myself asking: why is it so difficult to write about it?

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With little fanfare and not in order of importance, here is a list of reasons why I don’t write about joy more often:

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Sometimes I am not joyful.

That’s pretty self explanatory. I don’t believe in faking it just to fake it—that’s inauthentic to both life and the Christian experience.

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Sometimes Christians can be fake-joyful.

Connected to the point above, there’s a stereotype of Sunday morning Christians—that they are all smiley and cheery but inside they’re sad.

For a few years I was one of those Christians: I was struggling with a lot of anxiety and fear but didn’t let onto it because I thought a Christian wasn’t supposed to feel those things, that a Christian was just supposed to be happy and joyful or faking it until they actually felt those things. I was wrong, and God walked me through that season, but since then I have tried to fight this stereotype by being vulnerable in my newsletters.

BUT…I worry the pendulum has swung too far, that I’m trying to compensate for the stereotype of the fake-cheery Christian by being unnecessarily dour at times. I don’t want to be “one of those fake cheery people,” so I hammer home the sorrow a little too much.

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Empathy.

I think of Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.” It feels inappropriate to write of joy on here when I know there are people who read this that are weeping. My default is to try and create space for sorrow because people deserve to be seen, heard, and validated in their pain.

But still, we are called to rejoice, and to rejoice always (1 Thess. 5:16). Can I write of joy without alienated those not feeling it?

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Happy pieces don’t perform as well as sad pieces.

I try not to let the metrics dictate what I write about, but it’s a factor in my subconscious that I keep trying to push down. Our negativity bias makes the difficult and ugly sexy. That’s why, when I first began writing, people encouraged me to write more about my singleness and anxiety—in fact, they encouraged me to make that my “thing.” Those were what got eyeballs on my writing.

Hopefully you know me well enough at this point to know that is pretty much the opposite of what I am interested in. However, that doesn’t mean I am not affected by it still. It’s an ongoing fight.

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Sorrow is simply easier to write.

“How do you make a book that anyone will read out of lives as quiet as these? Where are the things that novelists seize upon and readers expect? Where is the high life, the conspicuous waste, the violence, the kinky sex, the death wish? Where are the suburban infidelities, the promiscuities, the convulsive divorces, the alcohol, the drugs, the lost weekends? Where are the hatreds, the political ambitions, the lust for power? Where are speed, noise, ugliness, everything that makes us who we are and makes us recognize ourselves in fiction?”

-Wallace Stegner (Crossing to Safety)

I know I’ve shared this quote before, but it lives in my head rent free so it might as well live in yours too. What I love so much about this quote is the truth that it is hard to write about quiet things; it is much easier to write about the FLASH-BANG! of things. The “high life, the conspicuous waste, the violence.” All of that is easier to describe.

I’ve learned the same about ethical and good characters in my writing classes: they are difficult to write! It is much easier to write about conflicted characters, much more interesting and true to life.

I wonder if the same is true of suffering. It is much more interesting, almost sexy. Joy can so often be boring.

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So what do we do?

I hope this answer isn’t too simplistic, but as I thought about the question of joy and how to incorporate it into my writing more, I thought of the Psalms. To my knowledge (please correct me if I’m wrong), there is only one Psalm that is 100% sorrow: Psalm 88. And I am so glad it exists because it gives us permission to fully mourn and feel our feelings. There are other Psalms that are 100% joyful and hopeful (i.e. Psalm 150); they are mirrors to Psalm 88, giving us permission to feel unadulterated joy as well.

However, the vast majority of the Psalms are a beautiful mixture of both inner turmoil and hope in God’s salvation (i.e. Psalm 25). Sometimes they almost feel contradictory, but don’t so many of our emotions feel contradictory as well?

What if my writing—what if our writing—modeled these Psalms? Occasionally our pieces are all joy or all sorrow, but most of the time they are a mix of both. Isn’t that how life is so often experienced?

And maybe our writing can be signposts to one another that no one feeling lasts forever. Sorrow is promised in this life, “but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5). May we learn how to write faithfully about both.

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I don’t know, I’m just spitballing here. But I want to be better at sharing joy when I discover it. What do you think?

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Janell Downing

writes

To Care And Not To Care

and is just so freaking brilliant. She emulates the joy and sorrow of the Psalms with such clarity and honesty; I find my own feelings and experiences reflected in hers, and I feel seen and heard because of that. Plus she’s just an amazing person; please subscribe to her stuff!

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