What Writing for Myself Taught Me

By having a supportive audience that encourages me to explore any topic, I no longer view writing with disdain.

I hate when someone assumes I love writing.

Yes, I am a writer. No, I do not love it.

Writing is what I do to survive, it’s how I contribute to the capitalist machine. There’s not much room for love under those circumstances. But this year, something shifted.

In diving into the self-publication world, I learned writers hate writing with parameters and we really hate hustling just to afford life.

To be completely transparent, I’ve been overwhelmed by this project lately.

The past month has been riddled with migraine attacks and chronic pain in general, making it difficult to keep up with writing, in addition to my regular client work. I’ve been highly concerned about a drop in quality and if you’ve noticed lower journalistic focus lately, now you know why.

So, to help manage my overwhelm, I spent this week reflecting on some important lessons Not a Fit for Our Publication has taught me in such a short time.

My network is incredible

It feels really nice to have people believe in you. Every step has been humbling and heartwarming, from the first few confidants to now dozens of subscribers. You are the people who knew I could do this way before I did.

By having a supportive audience that encourages me to explore topics, I no longer view writing with disdain. Sometimes, my overwhelmed feelings simply stem from the limited time I have to research and write about everything I want. To even have a running list of article ideas I’m excited about is a luxury I’ve never had.

My network also offers a reminder that my past is still alive. I’m happily surprised to see interest from so many Lindsay eras—former colleagues, college friends, interns from years past and childhood pals make up my readership. I often assume people forget about me after too much time passes and, welp, you’ve proven me wrong in the best way.

Anyway, if I think about y’all too much I might cry.

My favorite pieces won’t always be my audience’s

Oh man, I was so excited to drop 9/11 and the Launch of Pop Radio’s Greatest Era. This was supposed to be my magnum opus, the thing everyone wants to read. I even paywalled it, expecting to get some paid subscriptions.

Well guess tf what.

None came in and the piece is my least-viewed to date. Ow, that stings.

Apparently, very few people think about Sept. 11’s impact on music as much as I do. In fact, very few people think about music as much as I do.

And that’s fine, it was just a very (Very!!!) hard lesson to learn.

Enjoying the ride is enough

I don’t need to elaborate here.

Audiences want the hot goss

*Sigh*

Again, it’s fine if people don’t want to read my cultural critique on what is real country music. Just as long as you let me do that nerdy kind of stuff every once in a while. Cool?

Anyhoo.

I’ve quickly, and reluctantly, learned audiences want some hot gossip served with their subscription. In reviewing my top posts, three out of four involve personal experiences or some sort of vulnerability.

It’s strange to think people want to know more about me. Once I got past that knee-jerk narcissism, I realized it’s not about me. Through writing, I help facilitate human connection. People don’t necessarily want to learn about me, they want to see themselves represented in my experiences and discover the right words for how they feel.

When I get shy about leaning into more vulnerable pieces, I always remember what a friend told me. Self-conscious about her vocabulary and ability to explain life as a migraine patient, she said my writing helped her feel seen and find the right words to communicate with doctors.

So, when I feel weirded out that audiences want to know the personal deets, I must remember my work serves a purpose—it helps people connect words to feelings.

People want to support good writers

We all know opportunities for writers are abysmal. So, when the opportunities dry up, what do you do? Create your own!

Self-publishing is now a common practice and platforms like Substack make it easy for people to support writers they respect and enjoy.

I’m also learning that in the age of AI, writers and those who love them are doubling down on supporting human-powered creative work.

It feels like we actually have…

…ugh, I wanted to use the phrase dog in this fight but then my dumb ass realized what the phrase is referring to and I got SAD!

Here’s a picture of Dax.

Opening up has changed my dreams

I’ve referenced my nightmares/anxiety dreams here before. They’ve plagued me near nightly since I went no-contact with a family member four years ago. I assume these subconscious concoctions are either my brain working out the associated trauma or getting stuck in said trauma.

Father’s Day this year was when I felt I could finally open up. That day, I balanced sadness with gratitude, signaling I could navigate my story guided by pragmatism instead of anger. It felt terrifying and relieving at once. “Did I make a mistake?” and “Phew, it’s finally off my chest” danced simultaneously in my mind on publish day.

Time revealed I did not make a mistake. The piece was easily my most well-received one and I realized I was not as lonely as I thought. A lovely bonus is my dreams have evolved. The high-anxiety dreams that involve my childhood home, feeling trapped, being let down by a parent or not having a home are starting to dissipate. Instead, I’m noticing dreams where I meet up with my friends or meet new people.

I know this is only the beginning and if I want my brain to be kind at night, I must reveal my not-so-cute side. I’m working out a multi-part series that digs into a side I am very nervous to explore. On this ride with me is a trusted friend who validates the experience, pointing out that bringing the topic here could be a transformative healing experience for us. Still, it’s scary!

I am more creative than ever

There are many projects and ideas floating around in this here fivehead of mine. I feel overwhelmed in an exciting way; like I can’t wait to see what’s next. I’m currently helping a good pal launch her dream podcast, I’ve joined a small writing group and, for the first time, my fingers are cracked and bleeding from painting too much.

I’ve always loved the anecdote “worked until their fingers bled” to describe someone’s dedication to their craft. It’s a visceral statement that I couldn’t relate to until now. My hands are nearly healed but I wore my torn-up and blistered fingers as a badge of honor. It’s proof I created something.

I actually think people are thirsting for creativity right now. While I do not have evidence, I feel we are using our creativity to find fulfillment, stability and even control in a very unstable, capital-B Bad political climate.

Instead of surrendering to doom in 2024, I’ve noticed we put more of ourselves into this world more fully and authentically. We create things we want because they give us joy and help us process the world.

And now I’ve just inspired myself to write another article.

I live with chronic migraine, which affects how much work I can take on. On average, I lose one workweek a month to migraine attacks. Not a Fit for Our Publication is my way to raise funds to manage my disease while offering something in return. You can help me out by subscribing to Not a Fit for Our Publication, sharing the website, sharing a free blog post and gifting a subscription.