Letters to Myself: Entry Twenty-Four
Prompt: What My Creative Voice Sounds Like When I’m Not Trying to Impress Anyone?
Ever wonder what your creative voice sounds like when you stop trying to impress others? This reflection explores the quiet confidence and raw honesty that appear when you create simply because you must.
My creative voice sounds like someone on fire when no one is around. It’s raw, alive, and obsessing over the smallest details, the ones that might not even matter to anyone else, but mean everything to me.
I’ve learned that this isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s something I value deeply. My creativity has grown because I’ve allowed myself to care about the little things. The words, textures, moods, and ideas that others might miss. That’s where the heart of my art lives.
For me, creativity is most alive in storytelling. Like in screenwriting, books, and films. Those art forms speak the loudest to me because they capture something eternal. They’re time capsules of human emotion and imagination. That’s why I’m drawn to older films from the 1930s through the 1960s, each one lets me peek into a world that once existed, preserved forever through the lens of cinema.
When I create, I’m not doing it for approval or validation. My art is for me and for the people who might one day need it. It’s not about profit; it’s about longevity. I want my art to live beyond me, to tell the story of a life spent searching, growing, and feeling deeply.
Creating from that mindset gives me freedom. The freedom to explore new worlds, characters, and perspectives, and to learn from them along the way. Every time I research a story, I discover something new about life, people, or myself. That’s what fuels me. That’s what keeps the fire burning.
Lately, I’ve also been learning to be a bit of a Stoic. To create with patience, discipline, and purpose. That philosophy grounds me. It reminds me that art is not just expression; it’s an act of perseverance.
My creative voice doesn’t always show up on command, and that’s okay. Sometimes it flows endlessly; other times, it needs to rest. I’ve learned to respect that rhythm. Stepping back allows new details to emerge when I return.
And at the end of the day, I’m not trying to impress anyone but myself. I want to look at what I’ve made and feel proud. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s mine. That’s all any artist can hope for.
Artists shouldn’t compete; we should champion each other. Support one another’s work. There’s no versus, but only community. Each of us is trying to tell our story in our own way.
So if you’re reading this and wondering whether your creative voice matters, it does. Keep creating, keep believing, and remember: no one else can tell your story the way you can.
This post is part of my "Letters to Myself" series — a weekly free-write blog where I explore personal growth, curiosity, and healing through simple prompts. Sometimes reflective, sometimes fun, but always real. Thank you for being here.
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Photo by Kyle Gare
