#writingconfession

Hitting “post” has never stopped feeling like a small act of courage. No matter how many times I do it, there’s always that moment of hesitation—will anyone care? Will anyone understand? Will the story fall into silence, or will it find a home in someone else’s heart? Am I accidentally uploading it to the wrong place, messing up AO3 all by myself, and everyone will see how stupid I am?

Publishing online is both terrifying and intoxicating. It strips you bare. You release something that has lived inside you, often for weeks or months, and suddenly it no longer belongs to you alone. It belongs to whoever stumbles upon it, to whoever reads it at two in the morning and feels a flicker of recognition.

I still remember those early posts in fandom, how raw and imperfect they were, and how kind strangers reached out anyway. A single comment, even a few words, could turn a fragile day into one filled with light. That is the magic of sharing art online: the way it creates bridges between people who might never meet otherwise.

(I also have a fanfic that appeared on a Spanish forum dedicated to "bad fics and their authors," but that's for a different kind of post.)

Yes, the vulnerability is real, but so is the joy. Every time I press “publish,” I remind myself that stories aren’t meant to be locked away. They’re meant to breathe, to travel, to live many lives beyond our own. And, even if only one person finds meaning in my words, then the risk was worth it.

So… be kind and comment a lot and always.