*Unless it’s great writing, first and foremost.
I am not downplaying the importance of therapeutic writing. It’s a valuable tool whether self-directed or used in a more formal recovery program. I’ve used it, myself.
But I’m not being paid to read what other people write, and then evaluate it in terms of their recovery from (insert applicable trauma here).
I’m just a reader – of original fiction, fan fiction, and nonfiction across many genres. When I read, I want to fold my entire attention into reading. I love the luxury of trusting an author to have nearly transparent writing. However they achieve it, whatever their style, their writing should vanish into the story.
That means no glaring errors or sloppy writing, which are guaranteed story-stoppers for me. That means strong (if not damn near perfect) characterizations, dialog, action, and worldbuilding. Fiction and non-fiction both should contain accurate facts. If not, the nonfiction should be ashamed of itself, and the fiction should give me a good excuse.
That means I usually never bother to read more when someone’s tags, blurbs, introductions, and sample texts make a big deal about their use of therapeutic writing…and even the front-matter writing is *awful*.
I feel for those writers. They’re often at the stage where even the act of writing is a triumph. Whatever comes out, however technically and artistically awkward, is a true expression of their pain and their adaptation to it. Outside criticism of the writing seems like a slap at *them*. They don’t have the emotional distance to separate themselves from their art. They may never gain it.
I’m not their therapist. I don’t know their history. My critique may hit them at an especially vulnerable time and trigger a setback. If they’re not ready to overhaul their writing, my observations are probably a waste of time for both of us.
So I don’t assess bad writing that appears to have been created at that part of a recovering author’s life. I don’t directly critique it online. I won’t beta-read it for possible publication. I try not to even get into explaining my reasons for avoidance, because that alone could further antagonize such writers.
I’m delighted to read stories from recovering writers who can actually write and tell a compelling story. I’m thrilled when they weave deep and powerful observations into what might be a bit of fluff, whatever the genre. I love it when writers of deep and powerful tomes are able to pull back and give me some lighter, sparkling moments in contrast.
But I won’t bother with more than a test page of bad writing, whatever its origin.