Every piece of work you create doesn’t have to be The Best, Perfect, Flawless Work for it to be meaningful.
The first story I ever started? About teenage girls that get elemental powers and get kidnapped? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never tried getting stories out of my head and onto paper.
The first story I ever finished? A YA fantasy with too many characters and flat relationships and a unnecessarily complicated plot? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never believed that I could finish a novel-length story.
The first fanfiction I ever uploaded? A self-insert OC fanfiction that overused italics? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never gone on to spend a decade writing fanfiction.
The first novel I tried to query? A draft I didn’t much like, a story I was fed-up with, rejections I knew were deserved? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never pushed myself to figure out what the publishing process looked like.
The whump snippets I jot down? Help me refine writing whump, writing pain, writing angst and emotions and feelings.
The new tropes/styles I try out? Help me broaden my writing experience, better my writing, allow me to branch out.
The writing, day after day, even if it’s deleted, even if I hate it, even if I think it’s absolute garbage? Help me write, help me get words onto the page, help me flex my fingers and imagination, help me figure out what I’m doing wrong so I know what to do right.
Everything you create is a step forward, even if you don’t see it at the time.
When you look back at old work, it’s easy to cringe, it’s easy to hide your face, it’s easy to wince and wish you did better and pretend like it didn’t exist. But climbing a mountain means accepting that you started at the bottom, means realizing that the view is so much better for the effort, means remembering that even when you couldn’t see the clouds, you kept moving forward.
