Writing Through Fear: How I Found My Way Back
Fear can be a powerful force, one that sneaks into our lives disguised as practicality, burnout, or even indifference. For me, it crept in when I first decided to put myself out there as a writer.
Eight years ago, I finished the first of my five books that I poured my heart into. It was the first time I dared to call myself an “artist,” though I didn’t really believe it. I wrote that word in quotes in my head, like it was a title I hadn’t earned. Still, I pressed forward, excited and hopeful that my stories would find a home in readers’ hearts.
But when the books were published, the reception wasn’t what I’d imagined. Nearly no one bought them. I even had to purchase copies for my own family members just to see them on someone’s shelf. It crushed me. It wasn’t just the lack of sales—it was the feeling that I’d bared my soul and nobody cared.
That experience made me question everything about my writing and my worth.
I told myself I was burnt out, that I’d given enough to writing for now. But the truth was, I was scared—scared of trying again, of facing rejection, of putting myself out there only to feel invisible all over again.
Fear silenced my creativity for years.
If I had continued to live in that fear, none of the human interest stories I’ve written would exist. Maybe someone else would have written them one day—we’ll never know. But because the White Mountain community accepted me with open arms when I moved up here, I stepped out of my own shadow and started writing publicly again. I found myself not only willing to share my work but finding more joy in writing than ever before.
I discovered that I love celebrating the successes of others. Writing human interest stories brought me a fulfillment I never expected, one that even surpassed the joy of world-building in my books. Writing became less about me and more about connection—about capturing the heart of this community and the people in it.
It took time and self-reflection to realize that fear wasn’t protecting me from failure; it was keeping me from the joy I felt when I wrote. Living in fear meant I was denying myself the very thing I loved. I thought I was sparing myself pain, but what I was really doing was avoiding growth.
If I could go back, I’d tell my past self that success isn’t about how many copies you sell or how many glowing reviews you receive. Success is in the act of creating, in the courage to share something meaningful, and in the lessons you learn along the way.
So, to anyone living in fear of pursuing their passion, whether it’s writing or something else: don’t let the fear of public opinion stop you. Create because it brings you joy. Share because your story just might inspire someone else.
And remember, Success isn’t just about the outcome—it’s in the courage to create, the joy of the process, and the connections you make along the way.
