Wednesday, August 21, 2013


There's a hashtag trending on Twitter right now- #keepgoing. It's where writers all over the world are talking about the difference a year has made for them.
And allll my mama bear instincts have come to play.

Dear Writer (Because you are one. You know that.),
I know it's hard.
I do.
I don't complain about my life on the internet too often, but suffice it to say, it has been a very long and very hard year for me. When I say my life fell apart multiple times, I'm not exaggerating. It did. Over and over and over again. And I picked up the pieces. Over and over and over again.
It's hard.
The self-doubt... oh, God. It nearly suffocates you, doesn't it. That sinking feeling of inadequacy that you're not ever going to amount to anything- that nothing you ever do will work out, and you should just quit while you're ahead and stop wasting people's time. That awful feeling when someone else's life seems to be going super fantastical, and you're just annoyed that all the good things happen to everyone else, and none of it ever happens to you.
Nothing good ever happens to you.
I've been there. I've been there so many times, and each time I get sucked there, I don't think I'm ever going to get out. That nobody cares what ends up happening to me, or what ends up happening to any of the things I care about. The things I love.
Oh, love.
You don't get it.
We're rooting for you.
All of us. The other writers, who sit for hours hunched over their computers, pouring their heart and souls into words, trying to make a difference with their art. The agents, who work hours and hours, trying to find writers that they know they have what it takes to represent authors. The ones who offer you representation, and the ones who don't, because they know a bad match is worse than none at all. The editors, who spend hours and hours polishing manuscripts and making them shine. The ones who say no to your submission because they know a bad editor is worse than no editor. The publishing teams. The readers. The readers, honey. The readers are cheering for you so loudly I'm surprised your eardrums haven't exploded.
Because there are people out there who are dying to read your book- people who's lives will be changed from your writing. They're out there.
And me.
If I could hug you right now, darling, I would.
I believe in you.
In every word you type, no matter how terrible you think it is. For every hour you spend, eeking out a story. For the time you spend, going over and over it with a fine toothed comb, making it shine.
For the hours that you believe that anything can happen to you, and for the hours that you don't believe anything can ever happen.
I believe in you.
I do.
Trust me when I say that you? You are a writer. You're an artist. You have the ability to change lives with your words. With your heart. You have the ability to make people look at things in a way they never thought to. You have wondrous depths of creativity and magic that are completely unique- nobody else on Earth has ever been blessed with the specific gifts you have, and nobody will after you. Only you, love.
So stop telling yourself that if you just stop now nobody will notice, and it won't make a difference. It will. It matters. You matter.
You do.
And it hurts, when rejections come, and when your brain rebels and decides it doesn't want to write, and for when it seems like everyone else is having all the wonderful things happen to them, and you're just not. It hurts. And the nights that you cry, hopeless and helpless and miserable, because you just want it so much. But you're not alone.
I believe in you.
I believe in you.
I believe in you.
Keep writing, love.
Keep fighting.
Keep going.
Keep going.

No comments:

Post a Comment