by Rachel Warmath

Many of us write about the hardest parts of our lives.

We use storytelling to explore the traumas we’ve survived, the wounds we’re still making sense of, and the difficult moments that have shaped us. Whether you’re a memoirist telling your own story, a ghostwriter telling someone else’s, or a novelist channeling pain into a character, you’ve likely faced the question:

How do we approach heavy material without letting it consume us?

That’s what we’re going to unpack in this blog post.

Early in my career, I had one ghostwriting client who recounted a certain scene from her past. It was violent and chaotic and triggered something in me. That whole day, it haunted me. I felt on edge. When my imagination would replay the images and dialogue in my mind, my palms got sweaty and my heart would race. I managed to jot down a few notes about our call, but I avoided sitting down at my desk to write. That night, I didn’t sleep well at all. The next morning, I still wanted to avoid the project.

Through that experience, I made a decision: In order to safely write about trauma, I needed better boundaries and real tools to protect my energy. Over time, I have learned how to do exactly that, through trauma-informed training, nervous system regulation tools, therapy, and consistent self-care routines.

4 Ways to Protect Your Writing Energy

In this post, I’ll share with you what I wish I’d known sooner. These tools and practices are designed to help you create safety for yourself and your writing clients. Let’s get into it!

1. Create Self-Care Routines and Take a Proactive Approach

A resilient nervous system starts with taking full responsibility for yourself and actively developing habits before the stress hits. Trust your intuition on what you think might work best for you.

There’s something to be said for mastering the basics of self-care: getting good sleep, eating nourishing foods, staying hydrated, spending time in nature, and doing practices like walking, yoga, exercise, breathwork, journaling, and meditation. Create a solid foundation for yourself because it will empower you in every area of life, including your creative pursuits.

Be open to trying new things. When you do find a practice that resonates, do it often. As the quote goes, “We don’t rise to the level of our expectations; we fall to the level of our training.”

2. Create a Clear Opening and Closing to Each Session

Clearly open and close sessions, whether you’re writing about your own trauma or interviewing a client about theirs. Experiment with different cues to signal to your body and brain that it’s time to start or stop working. I’ll sometimes light a candle as I set sacred space; blowing out the flame at the end of the session is a great visual cue that my work is done.

I’ve also used essential oils, smelling one scent at the start of a session and then a different scent at the end, to help my body differentiate between when I’m beginning and ending work. This is actually backed by neuroscience! Scent sends signals directly to your body’s limbic system, where emotions and memories are processed. And trust me, now anytime I smell citrus and vanilla, my body knows it’s time to relax.

You could also try:

• Walking barefoot outside and setting an intention before you sit down to write
• Listening to a certain song or playlist to get “in the zone” for a session
• Washing your hands after working, signaling that work is over and you’ve rinsed off any dense or negative energy
• Changing your environment when you’re done —closing your laptop, stepping outside, or switching rooms
• Saying out loud, “I’m done for the day” or “I release this” after you’re finished
• Taking a short walk after work as your “commute” if you work from home (or adding mindful breathing to your drive)

The point here is to find a small ritual that works for you and feels natural. Not only are you creating mental distance from work, but you’re also bringing your body into the experience, too. It’s a somatic reset that says, the work is now done and I’m moving on to what’s next.

3. Understand What’s Happening When You’re Triggered and Use Tools To Ground Yourself

Diving into traumatic material can activate your nervous system and trigger a response—whether you’re writing about your life, someone else’s, or a fictionalized version of something you’ve lived. Even though the danger isn’t happening to you directly in that moment of writing, you can still become agitated. Or if the heightened state becomes chronic or very intense, you could experience vicarious or secondary trauma.

The risk increases when the material mirrors something you’ve been through. For example, if you’re writing a character who endures a type of harm you’ve survived, or you’re ghostwriting for a client whose story is similar to yours, the emotional resonance can be overwhelming. So first and foremost, have keen discernment about which projects or storylines you’re equipped to handle. You’re allowed to say no to a book project or theme that could be too much for you.

Keep in mind, too, that your body’s reaction is normal—it’s actually your nervous system trying to keep you safe! Recognize when you need to take a break and consider those moments an invitation to prioritize self-care.

4. Know Your Energy and Your Limits

How well do you know your own energy? Can you tell the difference between when you are at full capacity and when you’re drained?

Do seasonal or cyclical check-ins with yourself. I like to revisit my workload every quarter and ask: Is this feeling balanced? Do I need to set new boundaries around when I take meetings? Do I need more days off? Sometimes the required shift means limiting client calls to two per day. Other times, it means scheduling more rest between drafts.

The more self-aware we are, the easier it is to notice early warning signs of dysregulation and prevent compassion fatigue. Create boundaries not only with clients but with the book you’re writing. Know when it’s time to take a break… and take breaks without any guilt! Every writer needs time off.

This Is Sacred Work

Writing about trauma is an incredibly healing, transformative kind of work. Alchemy is happening under the surface. When you reflect on your pain or witness another person’s pain and translate it into a meaningful narrative, that takes artistry and emotional intelligence.

It also requires resilience: mental, emotional, and energetic resilience. By honoring your limits and caring for yourself, you create space for yourself to thrive even while writing about the heaviest moments you’ve been through. May these practices help you stay rooted as you write the hard things. Remember, healing happens throughout the creative process, not just in the final draft.

Keep going. You’re doing powerful work here.

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About Rachel

Rachel Warmath is a memoir ghostwriter, writing coach, and developmental editor based in Salt Lake City, Utah. She is also a trauma-informed yoga teacher and energy healer. Rachel believes every story holds medicine. If you’re ready to write yours, she’d love to help.

Visit ConfidentAuthors.com to learn more about her one-on-one support for authors.

Featured photo created with Canva Premium.