I wanted to write to tell you how much I love you. You have given me so much, I’m not sure I can begin to thank you for it all. You’ve given me peace, laughter, tears. You’ve given me hope. You’ve made me angry and you’ve spurred me into action. You’ve done all this with the power of your written words.
I know you toil long hours with paper and pen, or on your laptop, or computer. I know you futz over words and you scream at your sentences and you cry when things go wrong. I know you hurt when someone says something negative about the thing you’ve worked so hard on. I know you feel lonely when you don’t see anyone leaving reviews for your books.
Know that there are millions of people out there waiting to read the thing you wrote. There are thousands of people who will love it. There are hundreds of people who will drive across the country or fly around the world to meet you. There are a few people whose lives you will change. All because you gave your time to them. Because you poured out yourself onto that paper and touched something in them. You made them remember that they aren’t alone. You were the light in their darkest night and you illumined the path back to safety or happiness or a sense of acceptance.
It’s easy to get discouraged. To say you want to quit. But I want you to know that the world needs you. Just as you are, writing the things that you do. Not everyone will get you and not everyone will care, but we readers care and we depend on you for our lives. What would life be, after all, without a book? If I couldn’t escape into another world, shed my own problems and take adventures, I’d probably shrivel up and die.
You wrote the book that saved a young kid from loneliness. You wrote the book that made a teenager dream of fairy tale love. You wrote a book that made that adult afraid to walk past her window at night. You wrote the book that made the old woman remember her youth.
So, please be a little easier on yourself. You are important to me and I will always need you in my life.