I often encourage myself and other people to show their work—even the raw, unpolished drafts of the piece can be surprisingly valuable to share. I enjoy letting others peek behind the scenes, and show them the messy, fresh-baked drafts.
I do this myself regularly by breaking up longer essays for The Decoded and sharing little snippets through my Tiny Bits newsletter. It not only piques people’s interest but also provides a fun kind of anticipation for the full piece.
Luckily, a lot of the work I’ve shared in my newsletter, on this blog, or with people I trust for feedback, has led to some really valuable input. Sometimes, it’s exactly the reminder I needed. Other times, it is just a new way to see things. Much of the feedback has given me new ideas to write about.
One of the coolest things I’ve learned on this blogging adventure is how building a little community of like-minded folks creates this awesome feedback loop. It’s so cool to connect with readers from all corners of the world and hear them out. I’ve had readers reach out all the way from Australia and Indonesia—literally the other side of the planet from me—to tell me what they thought about a book I mentioned. How cool is that?
If something I’ve written strikes a chord with my readers, I love seeing how they’ll pass it along to others too. Even when the feedback isn’t exactly what I expected—and there have certainly been moments—it’s often guided me toward new directions.
I also discovered that people are often just as interested in you as much as the work itself. Many of the questions from readers that I’ve answered so far have been just as much about me as they are about my writing. I’ve noticed that by sharing my process, I’ve kind of opened the door for people to step into my world. I’m not just inviting them to get to know my work, but to get to know me too—and that can sometimes spark new and cool projects along the way.
But above all, I’ve learned that if you commit to sharing even a small piece of your process every week, you’re kind of forced to actually do the work you are supposed to be doing. To become a writer you simply have to write—by sitting down and picking up your pen, putting in the work, even when the words feel clumsy or forced. Starting is often the hardest part, but once you do, it’s what keeps your progress moving forward. And sharing your work consistently with your audience can be a great way to hold yourself accountable.
For me, it’s important to keep the creative flow going, finding a little rhythm or pattern that feels right can really help — something to keep the momentum going. As I shared in my post, “How I Put Together My Newsletter,” I focus on creating work I’m obsessed with and would want to read myself first. Everything else comes second.
That means I don’t wait for things to be perfect before I share them. For me, the joy is in offering up the weird, beautiful things I notice—without the weight of needing to hit a home run every time. I really appreciate the freedom to say, ‘I’ll publish this now… let’s see what happens.’ Perfection can be a worthy pursuit, but the idea of ever fully arriving there feels like a bit of a myth. Whatever we create already has the right to exist, just as it is—it deserves to be seen.
In other words, there is something special about sharing the messy middle. The behind-the-scenes bits, the unsure-but-hopeful drafts—they invite connection. Sharing that in-between stage feels honest. It’s not about getting it perfect; it’s about making connections, staying curious, and maybe sparking something in someone else along the way.
In the creative projects that I do, I try to see how far I can push it—poke at its edges, turn it upside down, maybe even let it wobble a bit. More than anything, I just want to get it out into the world. Where it lands, how it resonates—that part is out of my hands. But what I’ve learned is that sharing the process with others, and letting people in on the journey just makes it all feel more meaningful—and honestly, more fun.
