The Question Every Audience Eventually Asks

It comes in different forms, but it's always the same question.

Sometimes it arrives directly: How do you find the courage to keep creating when you don't know if it matters? Sometimes it's more specific: How do you keep writing when no one seems to be reading? Sometimes it's quieter than that. It might not be a question at all but a look, a hesitation, the way someone lingers after a talk with something they can't quite bring themselves to say.

But it's always the same question underneath. Does this work mean anything? Am I making something that matters, or am I just making noise?

I've asked it myself more times than I can count. Every honest creative person has.

And I can't resolve the uncertainty. I still feel it nearly every day. However, one thing I've learned is you are almost never the right judge of your own work's impact. The piece you labored over and doubted and almost didn't finish is often the one that reaches someone in a way you'll never fully know. The moment you almost cut is often the moment someone else underlines, highlights, or marks with a dog-eared page.

You don't get to see most of what your work does in the world. You have to make it faithfully and release it and trust that it finds who it's meant to find.

That's not a comfortable answer. But it's the honest one. And every time I give it, I watch the person who asked the question visibly relax, as if permission to not know was exactly what they needed.

Create faithfully. Release bravely. Trust the rest.

Have you ever doubted whether your creative work matters? What brought you back to it anyway? I'd love to hear your story in the comments.