Unspeakable

On collage art therapy, stammering, and gratitude

Feb 02, 2024

Apologies for the hiatus in The Red Balloon, my new Substack focused on personal essays and non-kidlit art. I have started many drafts but always got bogged down by self-doubt. Is it good enough? Is it too self-indulgent? Will it freak out those who are used to my kidlit how-to craft posts and uplifting art in my Inkygirl Substack?

I kept stopping, making an excuse to myself that I just needed more time to think things through, to polish the rough edges, to reframe. Then I’d leave the draft unfinished and return to my regular creative outlets.

This morning, however, I decided: ENOUGH.

I’ve been focusing on visual creativity so much during the past decade that I figured starting with a piece of art would be easier. This probably doesn’t qualify as a genuine “personal essay,” but I’m treating this like I do my sketchbooks: it’s more important to get something down rather than procrastinate out of fear of being less-than-perfect.

About the art

This piece was one of my first attempts at mixed media with paper collage using strips from an old Japanese newspaper. Feel free to read my other Substack post about the why and how, my research into copyright issues when using print text in collage, plus see samples of happier art.

My friend John Chew kindly provided me with the Japanese printed material, and has also helped advised me about Japanese translation (I’m not fluent, sadly).

I did a pencil sketch first, glued down the strips with matte medium, added a bit of shading to the final photo digitally. I gave the original piece to John.

But what is the art REALLY about?

Frustration at sometimes not being able to express myself the way I want to express myself.

Many who meet me at work conferences or my talks have no idea that I am a covert stutterer. Look up the term and you’ll see wide range of definitions. I only discovered there was a term for this a few years ago!

As a child, my stammering was so severe that I often couldn’t get out the word “hello” when I answered the phone. What would come out instead: “h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-?” After much struggling, I’d finally manage to get out hello. Sometimes the person on the other end would wait; sometimes, they’d just hang up. Occasionally, they’d think I was making some kind of joke and would nervously laugh as they waited.

Like many other covert stutterers, I learned workarounds. I’d avoid trigger words or situations where I’d have to say those trigger words. I’d substitute words that would be easier to say, even if they weren’t quite right.

Every spoken conversation I have is a minefield. It was true back in my childhood and is still true today. Somewhat easier now, though. After so many years, I’ve gotten SO good at navigating these minefields that even I forget that I’m doing it sometimes.

But then, often unexpectedly, I’ll accidentally tread on a mine.

Usually this is because I’ve been asked a question to which the answer is a trigger word that has NO easy substitute: a proper name, for instance. My own name, especially. At work conference, name tags are a godsend. I usually bring a homemade name tag to wear before the official ones are available, to make it easier for me.

At this point, some of you might protest, But I’ve heard you say your name! You were fine!

And that’s the most frustrating thing for me, with trigger words: Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I’m not. When I’m not, it’s like stumbling on a rock when trying to make my way down a treacherous hill. Once I’ve started, it’s much more likely I’ll stumble again.

For me, the most difficult situations occur when people don’t already know my name, and I have to introduce myself without any visual aids. It’s one reason I dread mix-and-mingle social gatherings where we’re expected to introduce ourselves over and over again. As an introvert, I already found those types of parties exhausting.

This art is so depressing. Is this really how you feel?

Sometimes, yes. Usually no.

In this particular case, it was because I was trying to participate in a discussion (I honestly can’t remember what it was about), knew I had a valuable opinion to contribute, but ultimately decided to just sit out because it was too stressful. The other people, all of whom I care about deeply and care about me, were confident speakers and equally enthusiastic about the topic. My choice of “substitute words” have resulted in misunderstandings, so I was taking time to figure out what exactly to say…but by the time I had something, the moments were gone. Or I’d start with a tentative warm-up to what I knew might be trigger words, and I was talked over because I came across as too tentative or unsure.

So instead, I just sat back and listened.

When I got back home that night, I ripped up paper and created this collage piece instead. It helped! I find collage hugely satisfying and I’ve also learned that collage is not just fun but also can be therapeutic. Some even suggest it as part of a treatment of trauma.

I wish someone had pointed me toward collage art therapy back when I was in elementary school, when I sometimes purposely told the teacher I didn’t know an answer or gave the WRONG answer to avoid a trigger word, then felt stupid and frustrated afterward. Or after one homeroom teacher smirked while I was having trouble getting out an obvious one-word answer, while the rest of the class laughed as I struggled.

The latter betrayal cut deep. Up to that point, I had naively assumed that I could trust my teachers to protect kids like me.

Why I’ve started talking more publicly about my speech challenges

While I am a covert stammerer whose workarounds to avoid stammering have become second-nature at this point in my life, I have started to talk more openly about my stammering.

Back when Simon & Schuster said they wanted to send me on my first book tour, I had a near meltdown in private because I was SO stressed about the idea. After talking with my husband, I decided to tell my agent and then my editor about my stammering, how it was more than just a typical fear of public speaking, how much I could identify with the main character in the movie, The King’s Speech, in terms of the authenticity of the stammer and emotional agony of certain moments.

To my relief (though I shouldn’t have been surprised), both my agent and my editor were completely supportive. Justin Chanda, my editor at Simon & Schuster, said I should only do what I was comfortable with. If I was willing, perhaps I could try one or two small events and see how they went?

What I found: Just TELLING Justin and Ginger (Ginger Knowlton is my wonderful agent at Curtis Brown Ltd) was a huge relief, and made me more able to find the strength to step further out of my comfort zone. I ended up speaking with a kindergarten class about my new book….and was surprised at how well it went.

I started to do more and more public speaking, with larger crowds. To my shock, I actually enjoy it now, as long as I have enough time to prepare, can use visual aids, and I know that what I am saying will help my listeners somehow.

I’ve been learning more about stammering, connecting with others in the stammering community, checking out the resources and events hosted by organizations like the Canadian Stuttering Association (CSA), International Stuttering Association (ISA), STAMMA, and others.

Since “coming out” about my stammering, I’ve been hearing from others who stammered when they were kids, some who have kids who stammer, some who still stammer. For those interested in kids’ books about stammering, I highly recommend A Boy And A Jaguar by Alan Rabinowitz and Cátia Chien, and I Talk Like A River by Jordan Scott and Sydney Smith.

Without my stammering, I would not be the creative I am today

Even when my stammering was at its worst and I could barely get out the word “hello” when answering the phone as a child, I still looked for ways to connect with others. Not able to communicate with spoken words, I poured my energies into other ways to reach out: writing, art, and music.

I wrote stories and poems, drew comics, created a family newsletter with my sister and brother, composed music, learned how to play various instruments (my parents were encouraging throughout, even when I rented a violin and tried to learn it during the summer), continued discovering and embracing creative outlets as I grew up.

As I worked on my middle grade novels, I clearly remember thinking, “Ugh, what happens when my novels start getting published and I have to go out and do public speaking to promote them?” but purposely submerged my terror so I could focus on the pure joy of writing.

An editor friend has asked if I’d ever considered doing a graphic novel for young people about this. The thought had never crossed my mind up to that point! I’ve started working on taking notes and figuring out the structure. Who knows if it will ever get published? Same goes for my other novel project, a spooky middle grade involving Japanese yokai. Because of contracted work and personal commitments, I haven’t had much time to work on these but am doing what I can to ensure I have more space for these passion projects in the near future.

What matters to me most: What I once considered an insurmountable personal handicap has ended up helping me enjoy life that much more fully.

So getting back to the art piece I posted at the beginning…

Yes, the figure in Unspeakable looks sad, frustrated, held back. What I see now? Someone who is gathering their reserves, taking a moment to acknowledge everything they’re feeling and going through, but getting ready to SPEAK.

Any other fellow stammerers out there? Do you know someone who stammers? Do you use collage therapy yourself? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.