It’s never been tougher than it is right now…

Being a creative person and sharing what you create is risky. While creating art, writing, dancing or acting are all very human things, all part of our desire to tell stories and express what is inside of us, sharing them with the world is something else. What starts as pure pleasure can easily morph into something that induces fear, self-doubt and regret, even horror.

Undoubtedly, when you put time, effort and money into creating something that might not be appreciated or even noticed, there is a high level of risk attached. You might regret what you’ve shared. You might hate it. You might feel embarrassed of your attempts. You might receive negative feedback that hurts so much you never want to write again. You might become swamped with imposter syndrome. In short, you might fail.

But time and again writers do it anyway and perhaps they are especially brave for this or perhaps they just don’t have a choice in the matter. I’m inclined to think compulsion and obsession have more to do with it than courage. But we can’t deny it’s both brave and risky to share a little piece of your soul with the world.

There is also courage in the act itself — in putting pen to paper. There is risk around every corner. Risk staring right back at you from the horror and the challenge of the empty page or blank screen. There is a world of words and ideas in your head but the courage it takes to attempt to put them into some sort of order, to allow yourself to open up and let them pour out of you, is something else.

It hurts, to make art, to write, to allow yourself to be open, raw and vulnerable. It’s uncomfortable at times, to be that in tune with your feelings and emotions. Writing involves looking inwards as much as looking outwards. Writing is scary because it has the potential to go so horribly wrong. Writing is risky because transferring it to page or screen can feel utterly impossible, yet we do it, again and again. Writing is like magic, like witchcraft. Writing is the one thing that can allow us to truly know ourselves and explore the entire world and all of history and space at the same time. Writing is the thing that makes us feel free. Writing is the thing that makes us human. (Or at least it used to be until AI came along.)

It’s not easy to write a story, a poem, a novel. It takes real guts to dig your own claws into your own weak skin in order to reveal what’s underneath. It’s having the audacity to believe little old nobody you actually has something to say. It’s feeling the never-ending itch to unleash ideas and characters and made-up worlds from inside of you. And for what reason? What purpose? A lot of the time, we don’t even know.

There is so much fear involved in writing that some writers never even put pen to paper. There is so much risk involved in writing that some writers never ever finish the book they’ve been working on. So much courage is needed that many writers give up entirely, often before they’ve ever really started.

And who can blame them?

It’s a tough world out there. Despite relying heavily on every area of the arts to survive this life, humans have never been particularly good at appreciating or valuing creative pursuits.

The arts are generally underfunded and undervalued and this often means adults and educators actively discourage young people from trying to make a living from the arts. Sometimes it feels like everything is stacked up against you from the very start. Actually, screw that. The truth is everything is stacked up against you from the very start.

I remember my friends, relatives and teachers applauding my stories when I was a kid. But that congratulations and encouragement only went so far. The arts were, after all, a hobby, something to do for fun, to pass the time and to entertain yourself. Not something to make a living out of. It took me a long time to claw my way back from that but these days I’m happy to say I earn my living from the arts and I encourage kids to as well.

You might even argue that we live in a society that actively discourages people from being creative. And hey, now we have AI taking over art, do we even really need creative people anymore?

That’s a depressing thought but it’s one that leads me back to courage and risk, because these days being creative and sharing it with the world is increasingly risky, and therefore increasingly brave. Creative people are going to have to fight even harder to be seen and heard thanks to AI.

Are publishing companies going to be even more reluctant to sign up new writers when they have AI at their disposal? Are we going to see an upwards trend in big companies replacing all kinds of writers with AI because of the amount of money it will save them? Is AI going to get so good that soon readers will be unable to tell the difference between it and human told stories? Will readers even care?

Querying agents and publishers is risky and scary and it always has been — wasting time you don’t have and knowing that the chances of ‘making it’ are very slim. It takes a huge amount of courage to send out queries only to get rejected again and again.

Independent publishing has given many talented writers a chance to go alone and bring in their own readers, but it carries its own risks. You need money to put out a professional product and you’ll often find that family and friends still don’t take you seriously because you don’t have a traditional publishing deal.

You risk everything when you decide to write and share it with the world. You risk humiliation, rejection, ridicule and dismissal. You risk losing money, losing faith, losing self-belief and determination. You risk being misunderstood and misinterpreted. You risk the door being slammed in your face. You risk bad reviews and low sales. You risk no one taking you seriously. You risk writing for no reason, for no money, no reward, no praise.

But if you are truly a writer, you do it anyway.

And you always will.

If you are a real writer, you won’t be dissuaded by any of that because who can realistically piss on your fireworks? No one. Because you know. You know how vital it is. If you truly love writing, you will do it anyway. Despite all of the above, and in spite of all of the above. If you love writing, you will do it anyway because there is never any other choice. Because to do it anyway is the biggest fuck you possible to all of the above and after all, what is it to be human, but to fall down and get back up again, again and again?

If you really mean it, you’ll do it. You’ll squash AI generated stories with your little finger. You’ll rise above it. You’ll keep doing it. You’ll listen to the voices in your head, you’ll drift off and zone out time and time again, you’ll create worlds you can disappear into whenever you like, you’ll laugh and sing and dance and write for the pure damn thrill of it. For the pure damn joy.

It won’t matter if you never get paid, never get noticed, never get seen, never get respected. It won’t matter and it won’t stop you. Because everything inside of you is exploding like fireworks and that makes you different from everyone else out there. That makes you special.

You’re a writer. It is insanely risky and unbelievably brave.

And that’s why you’ll do it anyway.