Why I Write—Even When No One’s Listening
A Reflection on Substack, Storytelling, and What Keeps Us Going
There’s a quiet question that often lingers behind any creative effort: What’s the point if no one is listening? It’s a question I recently explored in one of my first Substack posts, and it’s something that resonates with anyone who has ever written, shared, or expressed something into what feels like a void.
Yet the answer, for me, has always come back to this: writing changes me.
It’s how I process experience. It’s how I find meaning in the blur of events and conversations. When I write—even if it’s never read—I leave the page feeling more focused, more open, and more grounded in who I am. The clarity that comes from writing is its own kind of reward.
And now, with the shift to platforms like Substack, I’ve found a new kind of rhythm. Substack isn’t just a place to house content; it’s a place to reconnect with what makes writing feel human again. There’s no pressure to be overly polished or algorithm-optimized. Instead, it invites something slower and more reflective. A newsletter isn’t just about announcing something—it’s about building an ongoing conversation.
Maybe that’s why this approach has caught on. People are tired of noise. They want realness. They want something that feels less like a pitch and more like a presence.
I’m not sure where this experiment will lead. But for now, it’s enough to know that sharing reflections in this way feels closer to the kind of writing that matters. Whether it’s read by one person or a hundred, the act of showing up and putting thoughts into words has value.
And if you're reading this, maybe you feel the same pull—to create, to connect, even when the audience isn’t guaranteed. If so, I hope you’ll follow along.
🖋 You can find my current Substack newsletter here: What Matters
