by Elaina Lyons
You know that old question: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really make a sound?
I think writers ask a similar question: If I write a book and no reads it, am I actually an author? And, beyond that, is there even a point to writing?
So much of being an artist is wrapped up in the search for validation. Most of us work on a small scale, so whenever we get reviews or feedback, we eat it up like it’s our last meal on this earth. We need to know that we did something right. We need to know that our work reached somebody.
It’s hard operating in that world — a world in which external validation is so crucial to the continuation of our work. I can’t even express the number of times I’ve almost stopped writing entirely when I checked my sales and saw they went down, or that I hadn’t gotten any more reviews for a hot second.
For an artist, that kind of validation is our lifeblood. And you want to know what? It shouldn’t be. We should generate our sense of accomplishment through the pursuance of our craft. We should feel validated through the happiness we get when we put metaphorical pen to paper.
But, alas, it’s rarely that easy.
Reviews typically mean more to us than the warm, fuzzy feeling we get when we finish writing a chapter or close out a tough bit of dialogue.
And that’s because reviews are tangible. They offer written proof that our work isn’t going unnoticed — that it’s going out into the world and affecting some semblance of change.
For an artist, that kind of validation is our lifeblood. And you want to know what? It shouldn’t be. We should generate our sense of accomplishment through the pursuance of our craft. We should feel validated through the happiness we get when we put metaphorical pen to paper.
But when the reviews aren’t coming in anymore, it’s important that we’re able to tap into some other source of evidence that we’re doing something worthwhile. So how do we do that?
By writing even when we want to call it quits. By finishing projects even if we don’t think a single soul will ever set eyes on them. Because only by writing for ourselves can we ever hope to successfully write for others.
After all, you’re your own critic first, and ultimately last. When you sit down to write and positive feedback is the only end goal you can think about, take a step back. Remember what made you want to write in the first place. Remember that applause fades, but those stories inside you — the ones itching to get out — those are eternal.
Remember that. And keep writing.
Grab your copy of “The Love You Know” here.
If you’re an indie author and you’d like to guest post on this blog, email me!
elainalyons.com 
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