It’s been twelve years since I wrote my first story. Didn’t even have the guts to finish it. I started about ten times more projects than I finished. I gave up, again and again. Some days I just wouldn’t want to write anything. I’d hate it; I’d loathe the fact that I had to edit my stories, that I had to read them aloud and realize they’re not as good as I thought when I wrote them. I’d despise the fact that some days it just didn’t work. The words wouldn’t come.
After I self-published my first novel in January 2011 and sold a grand total of 4 copies I gave up writing. I thought that I would never be good enough. I was quite certain of that actually. I felt lost and alone like I never felt before. Kept wondering… what was going to happen, what was I supposed to do…
I couldn’t stop asking questions, and I sure as hell couldn’t come up with any answers.
One night I decided it was worth another try. I rewrote a scene from my novel and uploaded it on Wattpad, an online community for aspiring writers. People read my story, and they liked it. You don’t really have to believe me, but that was one of the best days of my life.
And more and more people read my stuff.
So I wrote more.
What I’m really trying to say is that I owe it all to you. My readers. To each and every single one of you. Because even though some artists might never admit it, to us it’s all about knowing that our work matters.
My words matter. And that’s my purpose.
So thank you. It’s been an honor to write for you all these years, and it’s the one thing I’m most proud of.
But I don’t know if I could ever appreciate what I do know hadn’t it been for the incredible failure that was my debut novel. And my pathetic attempt at blogging, when I gave up after the first three posts.
Sometimes being lost isn’t a bad thing. After all, it’s actually “feeling” lost, and that’s just an emotion, something that can be defeated. And as long as you keep going, nothing can stop you.