When I first started writing, it felt as though I’d just discovered a secret door that could lead anywhere. I can still taste the freedom of it. The incredible joy of exploring parts of my own mind alongside the world that confused me. Reexamining life on the page was pure privilege. And back then, the page always responded in kind.

When I first started publishing, it was different. It felt as though there were a hundred microphones and a billion writers. Now, fifteen years later, it feels like there are a billion microphones and (maybe as a result) most people have their headphones on.

This can feel discouraging, but I’m here to argue that it’s a gift. All of it.

It’s easy to forget that there is freedom in knowing that we can write when and where and if I want to. There is a knowing (sometimes forgotten) that we’re all writing for ourselves and those who resonate with our work when they happen to come across it. But we cannot control when and who we reach.

Ellen Harding Baker’s quiltDon’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer. —Barbara Kingsolver

Jane Smiley kept a reminder above her desk that said, “Nobody asked you to write that novel.” And for her, it may or may not have been accurate, but I can guarantee it’s accurate for me and my fiction.

If I never write another book …. oh well. A few people would be mildly disappointed, then they’d forget their disappointment and move on. There are billions of other stories and other voices.

No one, and I mean not one person, is going to be destroyed if I never write another story or book. But this is not depressing, my friends, this is a reminder of our freedom!

There is nothing to lose and EVERYTHING to gain from writing while knowing that our work is an authentic offering, and therein lies its beauty. No, artists are not valued enough. Especially the brave ones. But perhaps this is because we can’t control the currency exchange with something as precious as art. Those who try often limit themselves and, in the long run, are forgotten. So if your aim is expression and the power that lives within it, keep going.

Consider the myriad people who persevered despite being “ahead of their time.” And consider how their work might’ve changed had they been seeking approval above all else. Consider those who gave up wanting recognition only to raise awareness. Consider those who were brave enough to explore honestly on the page when every marketing trend said to stay safe.

Ada Lovelace, who only lived to thirty-six, was the first to write a computer program in the early 1800s (despite Charles Babbage, a colleague, claiming his own name as the first). She loved her work, and her story bobbed to the surface as most truths do.

Kafka’s laborious daily schedule never impeded his own belief in the power of storytelling and that his own stories to one day reach the masses (it didn’t happen in his lifetime, but it is his idea-driven work that is remembered, not his more marketable contemporaries).

James Baldwin’s Go Tell It on the Mountain was started in 1938 and accepted only to never be published in 1944. The book would finally be published in 1952.

Ellen Harding Baker dedicated almost a fourth of her life to the creation of a quilt that depicted our solar system; she didn’t do this for accolades but for education. She had a fascination and passion so rooted that its branches are still reaching us.

To value our own work and expression, offer stories as gifts, and carry on is to do the true and meaningful work. So carry on, enjoy the stars, and share them as you see fit. If no one cares, you have nothing to lose from being unapologetically yourself. Ironically, it is only in this way that we truly cut through.

This is the true power of the artist—to create and then drop the mic.

Prompt: Write a story or essay or poem that begins with a bound and focused energy and ends with letting go.Write well, friends!

an offering: meditation for releasing expectations

Note: I’m hosting an ongoing Adult Writers’ Studio workshop in partnership with Thurber House, which begins in September and runs through November. If you’re interested, go here, click register, then scroll to the bottom. This will take place every other Wednesday evening on Zoom. I led the summer sessions, and they were beyond amazing.