Why Isn't Making the Thing Enough?
Why do we do this – Part 1: Why Share?
I used to hate reading my essays aloud in class. Even though I secretly hoped my teachers would praise my writing, the thought of everyone’s eyes on me while I read made me want to disappear.
Twenty years later, I’m publishing personal essays to 1,000+ strangers on the internet.
What changed?
Why do some of us need to share our work, while others are content to create in private? Why is making the thing sometimes not enough?
I know I’m not alone in wrestling with this. My friend Damian Rodriguez, whom I met in a writing group in L.A., agreed to explore these questions with me. After my L.A. adventure ended, we kept exchanging long emails where we discussed writing, creating, and what it all means.
And I just have to say that Damian is one of the best writers I’ve ever come across. He’s just finishing the second draft of his book, which I predict will be a big success, and then you all will see what I’m talking about here. But more on that later.
For now, here’s my part of the story.
I’ve been really shy about sharing my writing for a long, long time. As much as I secretly hoped my teachers would praise my essays during my school days, I absolutely hated it when they’d make me read them in front of the whole class.
The only time I felt the urge to share something I wrote was when I was a teenager, and I’d get so mad at someone that I couldn’t express it verbally. In those moments, I’d turn to writing, and the result would usually be a really nasty letter or a poem. (Apologies to my dear high school colleague, who never deserved that poem in which I killed her. And yes, I did share that one.)
During my studies, a professor demanded we start a blog. That’s when I realized I liked blogging. So I started sharing some pieces with my friends. Of course, my ego liked it when they’d praise me.
Then, when I started working as a journalist, I resisted putting my full name on the articles I wrote. I thought they were absolutely horrible and didn’t want anyone to read them. But after some time, encouraged by feedback from my editors, I realized I wasn’t that bad. I became more comfortable sharing my work and putting my name on it.
But journalism also made me numb.
All that writing about parking problems, politics, chronicles, gossip, the city’s infrastructure (yes, I literally covered all of it) left very little - read: none - desire and inspiration to write what I really cared about.
I dare to say I completely lost the spark and forgot what it feels like to write to express myself.
Because I was just producing content. And it was so tiring because no matter how much we produced, it was never enough. The quotas kept getting higher, and my salary did not. Often, I felt more like a factory worker than a journalist.
So, eventually, I quit. I felt like a traitor when I transitioned to PR. But I also felt relieved. Relieved because I didn’t have to pretend anymore that I was a journalist.
And guess what? After a while, my spark came back. I wanted to write to express myself again.
I often think about what journalism did to me - how it made me more courageous about sharing my work. Part of me thinks my ego got addicted to the attention and feedback. The other part of me thinks it’s just because I’m, as a human being, deeply addicted to human connection.
And for me, writing has always been one of the most powerful tools of connection and communication. Firstly, with myself, but also with others.
But ultimately, I think my friend Damian is right when he says there is no one answer to the question of why we share our work:
“That is up to each individual, but it isn’t a hard and fast answer. It is more of a pie chart, and it varies by day and by project. Only the individual knows the size of the segments in their individual pie charts.
But at the end, it’s - you either create because you have to, or you don’t because you don’t. If somebody has to write or paint or sculpt, they will do it because they have to. Actors act, Directors direct, Writers write. Do you want to be an actor, or do you merely just want to be famous? Do you really want to direct, or do you just want to feel like you are in charge of something? Do you really want to write, or are you seeking external validation for your innermost thoughts in order to not to feel alone and like a weirdo?”
For me, it’s all of it. The pie chart changes all the time.
Some days, I share because I want a connection. Some days, I’m chasing validation. Some days, I just want proof I’m not alone in how I see the world. But the most accurate answer to the question – why I write – would be: Because I have to. I just don’t know how to live and not write. And I mean that in the least dramatic way possible.
Next, Damian will share his perspective - and I think you’ll find it as refreshing and interesting as I did.
Stay tuned.
Thank you for reading. If you made it to here, I guess it made sense to share it. If you want to encourage me to share more stuff like this, consider becoming my paid subscriber. It would truly mean a whole lot to me.
If that sounds like a bit much right now, you can also support me by buying me a cup of tea.
Whatever you do, I kindly ask you not to leave without showing me some love by liking, commenting, and/or sharing this piece.
Your story shows how both impulses evolved, fear gave way to confidence, routine drained meaning, and stepping away restored the urge to express something real again. What Damian calls a “pie chart” feels right. Sometimes we share for validation, sometimes for community, sometimes out of habit, and sometimes simply because the act of making something meaningful almost demands an audience. In the end, it’s not about choosing between creating and sharing, but recognising that for many people, the work feels complete only when it resonates beyond themselves, even if that need shifts from day to day.