The Freedom of Being Unnoticed
Creating in the Quiet
Before anything else, I should say this: this piece wasn’t really written for an audience. It’s more of a letter I'd want my future self to send me—a reminder of what I need to hear out loud. A way to make peace with the messy, uncertain, exhilarating process of starting something new.
If you’re reading this, you’re welcome to listen in. But know that this began as a quiet conversation between me and the page.
When I first started writing, and putting my creations out into the world, I thought I had to get everything right. Every sentence had to be polished. Every idea had to be profound. Every post had to prove that I was “a real writer.” I’d spend hours second-guessing myself, rewriting the same paragraph, wondering if anyone would care—or worse, if they’d judge me.
But here’s the truth I’ve come to love: no one’s really paying attention right now. And that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s one of the most liberating parts of being a beginner.
The Quiet Stage Is a Gift
When you’re just starting out—whether it’s on Substack, YouTube, or any creative platform—there’s a kind of quiet that surrounds you. You don’t have a big audience. You’re not getting flooded with comments or critiques. And while that might feel discouraging at first, it’s actually a rare and beautiful opportunity.
Because when no one’s watching, you’re free to try anything.
You can write in first person one week, third person the next. I experimented with second person just to see how it feels. You can write a story with no plot, or one that jumps through time like a skipping stone. You can be inconsistent. You can be weird. You can be wildly experimental.
And no one will stop you.
This Is the Time to Play
Start treating your writing like a lab. Every post is an experiment. Some are messy. Some are surprisingly good. Some fall flat. But every single one teaches you something.
I’ve tried writing short stories with no dialogue. I’ve written essays that start with a question and end with a confession. I’ve played with tone, structure, and even genre. And the more I try, the more I learn—not just about writing, but about myself.
There’s no pressure to “stay on brand” because you don’t have a brand. There’s no fear of alienating an audience because you're still building one. That’s the magic of this stage: you get to find your voice by using it.
Publish Imperfectly, Learn Publicly
One of the biggest mindset shifts I’ve had is letting go of perfection. I used to think I had to wait until something was “ready” before I shared it. But now I realize that sharing the messy middle is part of the process.
Platforms like Substack and YouTube are perfect for this. They’re not just places to showcase finished work—they’re places to document your journey. To say, “Here’s what I’m trying. Here’s what I’m learning. Here’s what I’m curious about.”
And when you share that way, something amazing happens: people start to connect with you. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re real.
Being New Means You’re Not Boxed In
One of the most exciting things about being a beginner is that you’re not stuck in a niche. You’re not expected to do one thing forever. You can pivot. You can evolve. You can reinvent yourself as often as you like.
That’s not a weakness—it’s a strength.
So if you want to write a sci-fi story this week and a personal essay next week, do it. If you want to try a video essay, a podcast, a photo journal—go for it. This is your time to explore.
Make the Most of the Quiet
One day, if you keep going, people will start to notice. You’ll build an audience. You’ll get feedback. You’ll have readers who expect certain things from you. And that’s a beautiful stage too—but it’s different.
So while you’re here, in this quiet, beginner-friendly space, make the most of it. Be bold. Be curious. Be messy. Try everything.
Because this is where your voice is born—not in the spotlight, but in the shadows, where you’re free to play.