Emily sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had been writing for years on Substack, pouring her heart into stories, essays, and articles that she hoped would resonate with others. Yet, despite her dedication, her subscriber count remained modest, her income from subscriptions meager, and her name far from being recognised on the platform.
There were days when she questioned why she continued. The late nights spent writing when she could have been sleeping, the countless revisions, the moments of self-doubt—what was it all for? She had set goals when she first began this journey: a certain number of subscribers, a particular income milestone, and perhaps even a bestseller someday. But as the years went by, those goals seemed more like distant dreams, always just out of reach.
If someone asked Emily why she was still writing on Substack, she knew she couldn’t give a straightforward answer. She couldn’t point to any tangible success or milestone that kept her going. Her subscriber count wasn’t soaring, her earnings weren’t enough to live on, and she wasn’t the kind of writer whose posts appeared on trending feeds. So why did she continue?
It wasn’t the growth of her audience that fueled her. She had long since stopped obsessing over the numbers, realising that they didn’t define her worth or the value of her work. It wasn’t the money, either—if she had been writing for profit alone, she would have given up years ago. And it certainly wasn’t popularity; she had learned that chasing fame was a hollow endeavour that only led to disappointment.
No, what kept Emily writing was something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put into words. It was a pull, a calling, a quiet but persistent voice that urged her to keep going. Every time she thought about quitting, something inside her wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t the external rewards that kept her at her desk, but the internal satisfaction of creating, of putting words on a page and knowing that, even if only one person read them, they had made a difference.
She remembered the few comments she had received from readers, thanking her for her words, telling her how her stories had touched them, and making them feel seen or understood. Those moments, rare as they were, filled her with a sense of purpose that no number of subscribers or dollars could match. She realised that she wasn’t writing for the masses but for those few who truly connected with her work. And perhaps, more than that, she was writing for herself—for the way it made her feel alive.
So, Emily kept writing. She wrote through the silence, through the uncertainty, and through the doubt. She wrote not because she had to, but because she couldn’t not write. It was as if her soul needed the outlet, the expression, the connection that came from sharing her stories with the world.
And in time, she came to understand that this was what mattered most: the act of creation, the process of writing, and the fulfilment it brought her. Her goals shifted, not in the direction of external validation, but toward something more meaningful—writing for the sake of writing, for the love of the craft.
Years later, when she looked back on her journey, Emily realised that what made her feel alive wasn’t in the numbers or the recognition but in the fact that she had never given up. And that, in the end, was more than enough.
Emily's story is not just her own—it's a reflection of the journey that countless writers, artists, and creators embark on every day. The struggle to keep going, to create when it feels like no one is listening, is a challenge that resonates deeply with anyone who has ever tried to share their voice with the world.
For every creator out there who feels like they’re shouting into the void, remember this: you are not alone. Emily’s experience is a testament to the resilience required to pursue a passion, even when the tangible rewards seem out of reach. Writing, creating—these are acts of courage, especially in a world that often values numbers over meaning, popularity over substance.
The journey of a creator is often solitary, filled with moments of doubt and frustration. It’s easy to get lost in the pursuit of recognition, to measure success by the number of eyes on your work. But the essence of creating is in the quiet satisfaction of crafting something true to yourself. It’s in the process of discovery.
To every creator reading this: know that your work matters, even if they reach only a handful of people—or just one. The impact of a clip, a story, a poem, or an essay isn’t measured by how many see it, but by how deeply it touches those who do. And sometimes, the most important reader of all is you. Writing has the power to change perspectives, to heal, to inspire—not others, but yourself.
Keep writing, even when it feels like no one is reading. Keep creating, even when the world seems indifferent. Every word you write, every sentence you craft, is a step toward something greater than the sum of its parts. It's a testament to your perseverance, your passion, and your belief in the power of creativity.
Remember that every great writer, every beloved author, started where you are now. They faced the same doubts, the same struggles. But they kept going. They wrote when no one was listening, and in doing so, they honed their craft, found their voice, and eventually connected with the audience that was meant to find them.
Your journey is no different. It’s not about the destination, but about the dedication to keep moving forward, one word at a time. So, take heart, and keep going. Your work has the power to make a difference, even if that difference starts with you. And who knows? Somewhere, someday, someone might stumble upon your work and find exactly what they needed to hear.
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Once I drove 5 hours to speak for 90 minutes. A thousand people, and only one sought me afterwords. Turns out, that conversation was the real reason I was there. All for one new friend who blessed me as much as I (may) have him.
Worth it.
Now I post with that in mind.
Winston - you could have substituted my name for Emily’s throughput this piece. It resonated deeply with me because I don’t have a huge following and my earnings are meagre. But, like Emily, I write because it’s part of who I am. I can’t imagine my life without writing. But, like all creatives, it would be great to have more people enjoying my work- to have a wider reach. But it’s an overcrowded marketplace out there. One has to be strong, resilient and determined to succeed. And it’s the dedicated followers and subscribers who make it all worthwhile. Thank you for an inspirational and engaging post.