Open Letter to Those Who Aren’t “Good Enough.”

I’m taking part in the Zero to Hero challenge, here at WordPress.

Today, the challenge is to write to that one person we hope would read our blog. The one we are trying to reach.

This is my post, to all those who are burning with creativity, but are sure their work isn’t “good enough.”

Hello, my friend.

You say you’ve written things, and drawn things, but you’re afraid to show anyone what you have done. You’re shy, and besides, what if they don’t like your work? Your stuff probably isn’t very good anyway, you say.

I used to feel exactly the same way.

I wrote things, and I drew things, but when I looked at them, all I could see were the flaws. The places where my work fell short of my vision. The bits I’d toiled over, but hadn’t managed to get quite right. The things that looked or sounded silly, once they were out where anyone could see them.

I was afraid to show others my work, unless I really trusted them. Even then I’d make them promise not to tell anyone else about it, for fear of looking like a fool.

Then, one day, someone told me something I’ll never forget.
She explained to me that I was the only person with my vision in all the whole world.

I was the only person who had my thoughts, my experiences, who saw the world through my eyes, with my unique take on what was happening.

I was the only person who had hold of my corner of the Elephant.

The world needed my voice. It needs everyone’s voice. And if I refused to speak, to tell the world what my corner of the Elephant looked like, then I was depriving everyone in the world of that piece of the puzzle. Which wasn’t very nice.

So I took my courage in both my hands, and started to show the world the work that I was doing. I started to share a glimpse of my soul.

I was still scared. (I still am, more often than not.) But I did it.

People can dislike your work, and still think that you are a wonderful person.

Years later I was at a show in Boston, looking at some paintings that were hung on the panel behind mine. I hadn’t planned it, but I couldn’t be seen, and I could hear every word people said about my work.

Two people came into my booth; I have no idea who they were. As they stepped up to my stuff, one said, “Oh! Robin Wood! You know, I like everything about Robin except her work.”

Which stunned me.

It was possible to like me and not like my work!

I am not my work!

You are not your work, either.

People can dislike your work, and still think that you are a wonderful person.

Tastes vary. Some people enjoy jazz, others can’t stand it. Some people love poetry, others have no use for it. Some people like chocolate, others prefer butterscotch.

The thing is, whether or not someone likes something has no bearing on the value of that thing! (And even less on the value of the person creating that thing.)

People didn’t like VanGogh when he was painting. Now he’s viewed as one of the foremost painters of his time, and his influence is far reaching. His work was always brilliant; it just didn’t match late nineteenth century tastes.

If someone, or even lots of someones, don’t like your work, all it means is that your work is not to their taste. It doesn’t mean a single thing about the work itself, or about you.

Perhaps you’ll find your audience, and perhaps not.

The important thing is to remain true to your vision. Let your heart overflow into your writing. Draw the pictures that are hammering on the inside of your head. Play the song that you hear in the silence. Dance the patterns of your life.

Open your hands, and let your voice flow out into the world.

Please, share what you know with the rest of us.

We need your voice.