why writing? Or: why do I do the things I do the way I do them!

As a writer – am I allowed to label myself as such?, the “why” behind my writing is as essential as the words themselves. Some might say it’s therapeutic, a way to release emotions. Others see it as a form of art, a pursuit of beauty in language. For me, it’s both, but it’s also about expression—the unfiltered act of creating something from nothing, shaping ideas into something tangible, breathing life into characters, or capturing a fleeting emotion in a line of poetry.

Many established writers and advisors urge you to build an audience before putting out too much content. The logic behind this is sound: having an audience gives you a platform, a reason to write more. But this advice feels irrelevant to me now.

I used to write with an audience in mind, and I often felt the weight of their expectations. I thought I was suffering from writer’s block when really, I just didn’t want to disappoint those reading my words. Over time, that pressure became stifling, and the joy I once felt in writing was replaced by a sense of obligation. The more I catered to external expectations, the more distant I felt from my own voice. I wanted people to read what I wrote, yes, and I still do, but not at the cost of losing myself in the process.

Writing, for me, has always been personal. It’s the quiet space where I can let my thoughts unfold without constraint. Every poem, every story, is a conversation with myself before it’s ever shared with anyone else. The satisfaction doesn’t come from feedback or approval, but from the act of creation itself. The process is where I discover what I want to say, not in the applause that might follow.

I’ve been doing this for twelve years. In that time, I’ve published eight books, but I’ve written twice as many. I’ve learned that while feedback and engagement are great, they’re not the foundation of my writing. Once, on Wattpad, I had a large following, but only a handful of readers truly engaged with me. The validation felt good, but there was a price—one I wasn’t willing to keep paying. The best thing Wattpad gave me wasn’t the numbers, but the connection I made with Edwin, one of my closest friends. The rest—the drama, the constant need to perform—became noise, and I learned to let it fade away.

If my work resonates with someone, it will find its way to them. There’s something powerful in letting go and trusting that the right people will discover your words when they’re meant to. I haven’t stopped seeking validation—likes still touch something in me and show me that readers can relate to what I write or find beauty in it. Each like is a tiny affirmation, a reminder that my words, even for a moment, struck a chord with someone. I wouldn’t keep sharing on my blog if I didn’t want others to see what I create. But I’ve stopped running after an audience or measuring success by shares. The connection I have with my writing feels more important than chasing numbers.

The freedom I find in writing comes from the fact that I don’t need my words to matter to everyone. They just have to matter to me and to the few who resonate with them. I’ve stopped chasing validation, but I still appreciate when it finds me naturally. If I write for an audience before writing for myself, I dilute the authenticity of my voice, and that’s something I never want to lose.

So, I keep writing. Not just for the approval of others, but for the connection I build with myself, word by word. The audience, if it comes, is a bonus. If not, it doesn’t change why I do this. I write because it’s who I am. It’s how I process the world and the emotions that flow through me.

That’s why I write, and it’s why I’ll continue to do so—whether or not anyone is watching. Because the real audience I’m writing for, in the end, is myself.

What do you think? Do you have any thoughts about this?