In a world obsessed with outcomes, writers will continue to write – just as creative people will always create – because that trait is built into their DNA. writing remains one of the last acts done purely because it matters to the writer.
The Unprofitable Truth
There are nearly eight billion people in the world.
Of them, countless dream of writing.
Some keep journals. Others draft novels in silence. A few dare to publish.
But the truth is this:
Fewer than 0.0001% will ever earn money from writing.
Even fewer will grow wealthy from it.
So Why Do They Do It?
Because writers don’t write for profit.
They write for the process.
For the strange, sacred alchemy of turning thought into language.
For the rush of a sentence that lands just right.
For the moment a character says something you didn’t expect—but that feels undeniably true.
They write not for recognition, but because it’s inevitable.
Writing as Resistance
In a world obsessed with outcomes—likes, clicks, and sales—
writing remains one of the last acts you can do simply because it matters to you.
It reveals you to yourself.
It sharpens what you believe.
It lets you make sense of a chaotic world, even if just for a page.
It’s often the writers who care least about external success
who end up connecting most deeply.
Because sincerity can’t be faked.
And truth has a strange way of finding its reader.
A 30-Year Reflection
I started writing about the world I saw—and the thoughts it stirred—almost 30 years ago.
Back then, I didn’t have an audience. I didn’t have a plan.
I just had a need: to observe, to question,
to make sense of things by putting them into words.
To this day, I’m not sure if any of those thoughts had real value—
not in the commercial sense, not by the world’s usual standards.
But they were interesting.
They made me curious.
They helped me see things more clearly—or at least from different angles.
The Only Standard That Matters
And maybe that’s all writing ever needs to be:
a mirror, a puzzle,
a trail of breadcrumbs leading you back to yourself.
Not every sentence needs to be a masterpiece.
Not every idea needs to change the world.
Sometimes, it’s enough that it meant something to you.
That it helped you feel more awake, more honest, more alive.
That’s the kind of writing that sticks.
Not because it’s flawless—
but because it’s real.
The Unstoppable Why
So whether it’s 30 years ago or 30 minutes from now,
I’ll keep writing.
Not because I know it’s valuable—
but because it reminds me of who I am and how far I’ve come on my journey through life.
