“It’s obvious English isn’t your first language.”

That line, verbatim, was in the first rejection letter I received. It almost broke me from ever wanting to write another word again.

Ten years ago, my closest friend told me I was a waste of talent and just needed to practice writing in public. Together, we took to the Internet and wrote our hearts out.

My writing improved, my confidence soared and I’ve already published two books, with more on the way. Early readers tell me they love the writing style and find it personable.

This isn’t a story about some vague definition of success or “following my passion.”

It’s a story of knowing what writing has done; not for me, but others.

Haters Going to Hate

The first foray into online writing was using my alter ego, “Zor” for the website TommyZor.com. It was a satirical commentary on the everyday happenings of society.

This was followed up with a blog for graduate students called ProductiveGrad, which gave me enough attention to guest post in a few places, then another blog called TheDailyWriter. The feedback I received was astounding:

I was called an amateur, a hack, waste of breath, a waste of life, many expletives and even told the Internet would be better off without “my kind.”

The crazy thing is none of that bothered me. Why?

The Impact of Reaching Out

People were emailing me to thank me for the article I wrote that lifted their spirits. A young woman told me to keep writing because Tommy v2 and Zor were heroes in her office. A subscriber once emailed me to ask if I was okay after not seeing a post for a few days on TheDailyWriter.

I’ve connected with people across the world, made friends with people I’ve admired, interviewed celebrities, spoke at events and been asked to collaborate on projects that impact others.

The more I put myself out there, the more people responded. Writing became the conduit for making connections that mattered. It became a part of who I am.

Before finishing a writing piece, I’m already brainstorming what to write next. There’s no need to remind me to write every day because my fingers twitch until I sit at a keyboard.

There’s something special knowing somebody is reading my work and feels a connection to my thoughts. Writing is the unearthing of your most vulnerable self and it’s the scariest thing to reveal to anybody. Even more terrifying is how addictive it becomes.

While I spent a lot of time at the beginning writing for myself (and writing what I know), my words only built traction when I gave them a purpose: how can I serve the person reading this?

Vulnerability Leads to Connection

We all like to think we’re special and unique. We like to think our circumstances are so different than anyone else and nobody could possibly know what’s really going on.

There is truth to that, but not as much as you think.

Deep beneath the veneer of our external personas, there is a longing for connection. It could be a connection to others, to the earth, to the universe, or to something spiritual. We feel alone, but we don’t like to be alone.

Thousands of thought leaders over many generations have given us the keys to overcoming this loneliness and how to find connection. Whatever avenue is used, the message is simple: you need to reach out honestly.

Honesty involves putting aside pretenses about yourself and letting others in. It is quite possibly the scariest thing to do, but the results speak for themselves.

In my attempt to reach out, to be vulnerable and to give myself honestly to the written word, I discovered the many people who could connect to what I was saying. In the act of writing and reading, we were sharing an experience across space and time.

It caused them to reach out and before you know it, we were impacting each other’s lives in powerful and uplifting ways.

As the writing continued, it became less about me and more about others. And the more it became about others, the more it encouraged me.

Why do I still write?

I write because I have something to say.

I write because others are willing to listen.

I write because it connects me to the shared experiences of the world.

I write because I need to and no amount of criticism, or personal attacks, will get in the way.

I write because it isn’t about me anymore.

I write because it never was.