But I’ve only been writing on Medium for a total of maybe 4.5 months. I’ve written a total of 132 (including this one) stories. There are many more in my drafts page, waiting to be revisited and hoping to see the light one day.
I started on November 3, 2016, challenging myself to write everyday on a whim.
I’d been lurking Medium for at least a year by then, and I was sick and tired of reading articles telling me to create instead of consume. I was sick and tired because I wasn’t following any of the advice that I was given.
I was reading at least 20–30 motivational articles on Medium a day, but my life didn’t change (as sometimes promised from writers on Medium) and I only felt worse.
I decided to keep it a secret then. No one knew about my little blog in the infinite landscape of the Internet. My mindset then was: No one could see how badly I’d fail, if I failed, and no one could judge me even if I failed.
So I wrote everyday for three months. I realized, in those days, how happy I was to write. It’s like my mind was pouring out onto the blank template as soon as I clicked “New Story”. My mind was finally free from itself. It had a place to unleash its creativity, its chaos, its observations.
I don’t know where this sudden discipline came from. Maybe it was my subconscious working behind the scenes to push me into action that very day. Maybe I just needed time to ponder on the material I read. I can’t quite explain it but the urge to create and challenge myself overcame me one day.
I started writing passionately, and you could tell from my writing that I thought I was enlightened and speaking from authority. I was clearly excited to share my thoughts and, at the time, everyday seemed to bring small epiphanies to my conscience.
However, I always had with me a looming and powerful presence of self-doubt and insecurity. I still struggle with it on most days, and I have to keep on my toes to keep it at bay. It tempts me with comfort, laziness, short-term pleasures. It attacks me in the all the right places, because it knows my weaknesses.
I’ve noticed that it comes in moments where I put in effort to improve myself — working out, writing, and reading. If I allow myself to give in even an inch, it can overtake and overpower me. I have to be constantly mindful of negative thoughts and emotions, paying close attention to these influences and respecting them by not underestimating its strength.
So two months go by, and while I fail to write here and there on some days, I keep trudging on and finally an opportunity presents itself. A publication, Student Voices, e-mails me and asks me if they could use my content on their page.
I was genuinely surprised, because although I thought my content was okay, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to share it with more people. My self-doubt started creeping in, but I was very proud that my work was deemed good enough to be displayed on a publication. I was also eager to get more people to read my content and follow me. I accepted, soon became a regular writer for the publication and continued to write.
I started seeing a couple views or reads trickling in. Every number in the stats page excited me and pushed me to continue writing.
One read was a lot back then. It still is, but to a writer speaking into the void, waiting for a single sign of life, it meant a lot.
I started gaining momentum. People started reading more of my content and were “recommending” them (it was Medium’s clap system at the time). I never thought I’d be able to reach 100 followers, but I did.
I showed my achievements to my friends, and they supported me and told me that I was doing something impressive and that my writing was really good. It made me happy, but I always had a shadow of doubt, always jumping in after allowing myself to feel good.
“Were they being honest? Were they just saying that to be a good friend? What do they really think? Can I trust their words? What if they’re all making fun of me behind my back? What if my work really is subpar?
“Were they being honest? Were they just saying that to be a good friend? What do they really think? Can I trust their words? What if they’re all making fun of me behind my back? What if my work really is subpar?
As I slowly grew my platform and found pride in having a couple hundred followers, the dark presence I had suppressed started showing itself. It started getting to my head, constantly making me doubt myself and pinpointing the fatal flaws in my writing.