I Thought I Needed A Niche. I Was Wrong

Readers don’t show up for the genre. They show up for the person behind the words.

Image via Substack

We’ve all dealt with grief in our unique ways. For me, it was emptying a box of tissues, crying until I felt dehydrated, and then heading to the pharmacy to grab another box, only to rinse and repeat the same routine. But then I discovered writing. At first, it wasn't to build an audience or make thousands of dollars online. Instead, it was a way to make sense of my complex thoughts, feelings, and everything I was experiencing.

The words came slowly at first. I wrote about hospital visits and late-night phone calls. None of it was polished or perfect. But I didn't care. Still don't. After all, I wrote because I needed to, not because I wanted anyone else to read it.

Years later, I can't help but feel grateful that I wrote without a care in the world. That I didn't worry about people's opinions or expectations, and wrote solely to make sense of life. I didn't care about the topic because writing allowed me to find my voice. And in doing so, I was able to be honest, vuln…