I Don’t Think I’ll Ever “Make It” As a Writer (and I think I’m okay with it)

Reading the advice of writers who have “made it,” I typically have one of two reactions along the lines of, “Ya, I’m not going to do that.” or “That doesn’t really apply to me.”

One of the top suggestions I’ve read recently is to milk resources aka your network. This advice is valid and probably one of my biggest hindrances, but as of this moment, I don’t see myself doing it.

Talking to a writer friend who’s been successful writing for TV shows, I asked him how he did it, and he said, rather predictably, he knew someone. And then proceeded to explain that pretty much all of his success as a writer had to do with his connections.

Cool.

Well, I have few connections, including the above-mentioned friend along with some friendly acquaintances who I’m sure I could reach out to, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

So ya, I may be the biggest hindrance to my success.

I tell myself maybe it’s because I’m a woman, so I don’t have that sense of entitlement that’s culturally nurtured in men.

Or maybe I don’t believe in myself enough — it’s all a product of my lack of self-confidence.

Maybe I need to simply push through this discomfort and just do it anyway.

Or maybe I’ll wake up one day filled with the motivation to really put myself out there.

Until then, I’ll continue to write Medium articles with the hope that they resonate with at least one person in this over-saturated ether of words.

The other advice I’ve encountered is to write for publications — write an essay or article that I think would be fitting for a publication and then pitch it to them.

Once again, totally valid feedback. And a bit more manageable for me than plugging into my network.

But here’s the thing: I just don’t care enough. Which is not to say I don’t care enough about writing, because writing is one of the few things I do truly care about even when I pretend I don’t.

I don’t care enough to try to sculpt myself into something that’s digestible to someone I don’t even know.

Writing is an act of liberation for me. It’s one of the few places in which I feel like I can be fully expressive. And let me tell you, I savor not having to perform. Because the older I get, the more I realize it exhausts and irritates the hell out of me.

So, where does that leave me? Probably in obscurity.

I’m not delusional enough to believe that I’ll be “discovered” one day. I’ve encountered so many talented writers and artists living in obscurity that I don’t know that I could in good conscience even attempt to will the universe in my favor.

I guess my ultimate hope is that I continue to enjoy writing even without fame or recognition or external validation.

And that I find some other means of making money that doesn’t completely deplete my soul.

One more anecdote and then I’ll wrap this up:

Living in Dallas, I visited an outdoor museum dedicated to the history of the city. I walked into a house once inhabited by a pioneer family, which included a few young girls.

Walking around the house, there were ornate crafts on display, including blankets, trinkets, clothing and accessories, all crafted by the young women who inhabited the house.

This family lived in what, at the time, was the middle of nowhere. The likeliness of anyone seeing their beautiful creations was limited to the occasional traveler.

My point is this: these young women created for themselves. They created for their own pleasure, joy and I’m sure to escape the boredom of being trapped with their family in the middle of nowhere.

I’ve held onto that. Because it resonated with me way more than any advice on how to “make it.”

It spoke to what I believe creativity truly is — something we do in order to survive, to make sense of life and hopefully to learn how to enjoy and appreciate our time on this planet.

I want to be clear that I’m not trying to take shots at anyone who’s committed to a career as a writer. In all honesty, I’m a bit jealous. I wish I had the authentic desire to plug away and grind out in the ways that might lead me to moderate success.

But instead of trying to change the nature of my current being, I’d rather accept it. And celebrate the ones who have found the path towards large readership.

And I also hope for a future in which money and connections are not the most significant factors in success. Which I get is doubtful and unlikely, but why put boundaries on dreaming? If I’m going to believe in magic (which I do), I’ll opt for the kind that plucks talent out of obscurity and puts it in front of audiences.

Good luck to all of y’all out there. Whatever comes of this life, I hope you make the most of it. And I hope you remember to cry and laugh, because both are so vital in my experiences ❤