Become a lighthouse, and you’ll bring in the ships that need your glow.
Writing is a profoundly private activity. Even within a writing group, the practice is an individual one. I’ve spent weeks experiencing very little contact with the outside world on account of a budding novel or screenplay. I’ve become the mysterious creature, emerging from her den under the cover of night for a cup of coffee after hours in sacred, writerly solitude.
As a career path, it is an ambivert’s dream. My introverted side is thoroughly satisfied by the time spent typing by lamplight. My extroverted side enjoys the illusion of company, constantly in conversation with casts-upon-casts of characters. The imagination is endless. It is a forever-sprawling ocean to be fished from, a field full of rabbit holes to tumble down. Still, sitting alone under comforting, cream-colored bulbs can become lonely. While I have nothing but gratitude for my fictional friends, they are — unfortunately — still invisible on this plane.
After finishing up my first novel, I sent it out to agents with a hopeful heart. I was eager to share my story, but I was also yearning for likeminded creatives to collaborate with. I dreamed of a scenario where the shameless authenticity I upheld on those pages would lead me to an agent who could see me, fully and truly.
Then, that dream came true. My agent is not only an incredible literary partner, but she is also a dear friend to me. One of her greatest compliments to my work was that it helped her see through my eyes and feel the unique beat of my heart through the heart of my main character. I never thought someone would commend my writing for its high concentration of, well, me.
When my novel went out on submission, I began dreaming of an editor who would see me, as well. I felt a glow in my heart calling out for a creative who, by some miracle, would also enjoy me in my fullest, truest, and most honest form. Of course, I couldn’t help but think about illustrious advance payments, book release parties, and Barnes and Nobles appearances. I made myself smile with rumination of cover designs and stylized bookmarks. However, above all else, I hoped that my little novel, my defiant act of authenticity in a world obsessed with masks, would lead me to a place of home, belonging, and acceptance.
Though writing is a solitary art, from my writing, what I truly craved was community.
Finding Community Through Vulnerability
The craft of writing requires one to unveil their soul to the world, trusting it will branch out and find readers who align. At its best, it is pure, unhinged vulnerability. My favorite novels are the ones that feel indistinguishably connected to their authors, not in a memoir-esque manner, but in a mystical one. When I can sense the love woven through each word, when I embark an adventure alongside the first brave explorer who took it, the reading experience is unmatched.
I believe every writer should infuse their unique presence into their pages. Leave your energetic signature on the cover. Stamp your fingerprints on the spine. When you do this, your readers will understand that the journey of your novel is one you embarked on personally. You will be right there with them, devouring the story line-by-line in an immortal dance. They will feel your exhilaration when the stakes escalate, as well as your heartache in the midst of hardship and tragedy. You will unite with them in perfect synergy, your voice inviting their spirit to incarnate in another world so long as the cover is propped open.
When your work is a mosaic of authenticity, unabashedly you, they will lead you to collaborators and readers in perfect resonance. Your courageous act of soul-unveiling will lay out a cosmic road map for your people to follow. There is an expansive fanbase of readers who will see themselves in your words. There are allies across the literary industry eager to aid you in your creative progression. To unite with them, all you have to do is muster the bravery it takes to be seen.
To be seen is a beautiful, terrifying thing. As writers, we are infinite palettes of chaotic paint. We are seekers of the blank canvas, lovers of the darkest waters. In the absence of picture and light, we are given the opportunity to create, create, create.
We are just as much all as we are one. By one, I am referring — of course — to being human.
Our infinite selves are fearless, but our human selves are built to survive. To be seen is to be exposed, and to be exposed is to be attackable. Sadly, a lot of writers fall victim to the siren song of safety through ambiguity. To the body, it feels more rational to become an everyman, an unseen servant to the secrets of one’s soul. Though everything about your uniqueness is true, it is only given space to bloom within a carefully curated greenhouse. When the walls are opaque, the flowers are safe, aren’t they?
I challenge you, just as I challenge myself, to take root in the Earth. Let yourself grow, freed from your terracotta pot. Let yourself feel sun rays ushered in by the atmosphere, not refracted through the glassy roof of a gilded cage. Your blossoms will be larger than they’ve ever been. They will be vulnerable, but they will also be wild, and you don’t have to be a seasoned botanist to know that wild flowers are far stronger than flowers in captivity.
Furthermore, you will now be able to mingle with the great forest of humanity. Your vines will meander to the most optimal conditions, situating amongst organisms that encourage additional growth. You’ll find symbiotic relationships. You’ll find a home.
Of course, there’s a chance you’ll encounter dangers, parasites, and predators. There will be roots that try to entangle with yours and drain away the water. There will be birds that try to pluck away your petals, and caterpillars ravenous for your leaves. However, you can trust that the act of valiantly leaving your greenhouse has come with as much protection as it has peril. Those readers, fans, friends, and family I spoke about prior will be there, ready to shield you, just as you are ready to shield them.
Inspiring Freedom Through Authenticity
When a writer is unafraid to be themselves on the page, they invite their readers to do the same. In fact, they invite the world to do the same. For just a little while, wedged between book covers, both the creator and the consumer can cast aside society’s expectations and programming. They can each return to their truest selves, the parts of them that never stopped believing in magic, superheroes, and monsters under the bed. They can be mystified, terrified, or swept into a whirlwind of emotion.
They can be free.
Who is to say the lessons we learn in writing and reading don’t follow us back into the real world? Fans of franchises from every corner of Earth find companionship through their mutual passions. The stories we read and tell when we are unafraid to be ourselves serve as gateways to belonging in a world where too many voices command us to quiet down and fit in. The moment we stop trying so hard to behave in accordance with other people’s beliefs, a million doors of connection swing open.
Our essence flows in its highest concentration when we feel safe, loved, and cherished. When we don’t, we water it down. We make ourselves more palatable, more refined for the agreed upon status quo. Though this might seem safer at times, it isn’t. It only blocks out the light of our inner suns.
As writers, even in our lonesome bubbles of creativity, we owe it to ourselves to be a real as possible. As human beings, the same is true. Through honesty, no matter how petrifying, we will find exactly who we are meant to. That book you’re terrified to write might make a reader out there feel seen in a way they’ve never felt seen before. That story you worry is too “outlandish” or “weird” might become someone’s comfort novel. That character you’re too afraid to unleash might end up on a poster hanging above someone’s bed.
When you write from the heart and with your heart, your words will be carried on winds beyond mortal comprehension. They will sail through the cosmos, and fall in perfect alignment before the eyes that need them most. Trust me, there are eyes that need them.
My agent gave me an incredible metaphor a few months back, when she sensed I was being shy about certain traits in my work and in my life. She said that we are, all of us, like lighthouses. When we are unabashedly authentic and real, we shine brightly and with our own personal kaleidoscopes of color. We cast rays over the dark ocean, attracting sailors who find safety and comfort in our glow. When we try to change, to fit the expectations of others, we dim our bulbs, and that makes it impossibly difficult for boats to navigate toward us.
However, when we shine, we allow ourselves to be seen, and more importantly, to be found. We show other lighthouses that it is safe to effuse the most brilliant light possible. We may even help folks who didn’t know they could shine, folks wandering along the beach in search of purpose, find a path to powering up a lighthouse of their own.
When you write, and when you live, be a lighthouse who shines proudly, powerfully, and without fear. Charge your bulb with your essence undiluted. As you glow across the literary landscape and across the world, your readers, your community, and all of the people who feel like home will see you and sail over the waves to unite.
As you let yourself be seen, in all of your beautiful, unique, individual glory, you will be found. Thank you so much for reading, my lovely lighthouses and radiant sunflowers of the world. I hope this piece encourages you to go out there and blossom, to ignite from within and shine as brightly as you can. Your readers are out there, rooted in the forest and searching the seas. Be yourself, escape the greenhouse, let them sail in. ♡
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