brynwrites:

Something to repeat to yourself in the shower:

My stories are not for everyone. 

My stories will bore some readers. Some readers will hate them. Some won’t understand, won’t connect the dots, won’t relate to the characters. Some won’t because they can’t, some won’t because they don’t want to, but most won’t simple because my stories just aren’t for them.

My stories aren’t for everyone.

My stories are for me.

And they’re for the readers who will love them. They’re for the reader who have already loved them. For the readers who will see what I see in them and feel the characters and the world the way I do. They’re for the readers who wanted these stories before they even knew they existed. They’re for the readers they’ll make smile, the readers they’ll stick with, and the readers they’ll save.

And just because my stories aren’t for everyone doesn’t make them worth any less to the people they are for. 

Not everyone likes butterflies. Not everyone likes spiders. But the people who love those creatures more than anything else would lose a part of themselves if they didn’t exist. 

So no, my stories are not for everyone. But that doesn’t matter. 

Because they’re for someone, and to that someone, they’re irreplaceable.