Despair is Real, but Take Heart
In high school, I would often write short stories for my friends. I would take their interests—sports, theatre, a favourite book or movie—and weave them into a story tailored just for them. I thought they liked my stories, until one of them told me, “Don’t bother, Jen. These stories are not my thing.”
I was gutted.
She probably thought she was saving me time and energy—if she wasn’t appreciating them, then I shouldn’t bother—but the damage was done. I stopped giving out my stories.
But I didn’t stop writing them. That was what she hadn’t been able to take away from me and my ultra-sensitive, too-thin-skinned soul. When I got older, wiser and smarter (i.e.: I’d hired a book coach!) I got to focus on my craft, and with experience and expertise in my corner, I was able to rebuild my courage to show my work. Decades after high school, with my own books published, I’d finally found new readers.
That’s why you keep writing, because your readers are out there. Whether you have the most enthusiastic support structure, or you have no one (yet) interested in your work, your stories matter.
Writing isn’t just hard because of the technical aspects of the craft. Writing is hard because we care. We’re not producing widgets for sale; we’re offering up pieces of ourselves. That makes us vulnerable—but also incredibly brave.
So when you falter, take heart. Take courage. You’ve got this.