My heart is full #web3nftfamily
Was just sent this YouTube video message from the students at Vesoul of France. Put the subtitles on.
Truly I am beyond humbled.
This is #whyiwrite 👇🏼🇫🇷🇺🇸🇰🇭
youtu.be/JHR0t6xEbyo?feature…
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May 24
For Ankita Misra, writing isn't about publication or recognition.
It's how she processes her day. Her thoughts. Her feelings as a mother, a researcher, a reader.
"Maybe something about how the day has gone, or something that I have felt. It kind of helps me get away and sleep off nicely."
Writing as therapy. Writing as rest. Writing as the quietest form of self-care.
Read Ankita Misra's full shortlisted story on Fableration → fableration.com/platform/
#Fableration #WritingLife #WhyIWrite
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A thought-provoking session on the writer's purpose and societal duty awaits at the Bharat /// India Stage during FILBo 2026.
Join us for "Stories We Owe the Society: Why I Write?", where a distinguished panel will discuss the role of literature in shaping our world. The session features Rajesh Kumar Tripathy, Emilio Aparicio Rodríguez, Swarnjit Savi, and David Fernández, and will be moderated by Kumar Vikram.
🗓 1 May 2026
⏰ 3:30 p.m. – 4:30 p.m. (Bogotá Time) | UTC/GMT-5 hours
📍 India Stage, Bogotá International Book Fair, Corferias
#IndiaAtFILBo #FILBo2026 #WhyIWrite #LiteraryResponsibility #GlobalLiterature #IndiaInColombia #NationalBookTrust #ReadAndExploreIndia #CulturalDialogue #BogotaInternationalBookFair
@PIB_Edu @EduMinOfIndia @dpradhanbjp @FILBogota @IndiaEmbBogota @IndianDiplomacy @CorferiasBogota @mincultura @MIB_India @MEAIndia
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Mar 21
People ask me why I write. Like there's supposed to be some grand answer. Some TED moment where I pause and deliver the line that makes everyone nod.
Nah. I write because I forget. That's it.
Not names or dates. I forget what things felt like. The texture of a bad year. The weight of walking into an empty apartment for the first time after she left. The way a city sounds at 3 AM when you're the only one awake and the garbage trucks haven't started yet.
I spent 20 years ghostwriting for people who wanted their stories told. And somewhere in there I realized I was losing mine. Not because anything dramatic happened. Just the slow leak of days turning into weeks turning into years where I wrote everyone's truth except my own.
So I stopped trying to be right. I stopped trying to be smart. I just started writing what I remembered before I couldn't anymore. That's all the book was. That's all any of it is.
You wanna know the honest reason I write science fiction? Because the future is the only place where I can be wrong and it doesn't matter. The past is already locked in. The present is chaos. But the future. That's where you get to say "what if" without anybody checking your math.
I don't write for applause. I write because one day I won't remember any of this, and I want something left that proves I was paying attention.
#WritingLife #NoahDaren #WhyIWrite #SciFiAuthor #3AMThoughts #QueensNY #WritersOfTwitter #ThoseWhoCameFromTheCode
ALT I don't write to be right. I write because one day I won't remember any of this.
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Feb 26
✍️ I write because written words have always been there when spoken words have failed me.
The page understands what the voice can’t say.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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Feb 25
I ghostwrote for over twenty years. More than two decades of putting words in other people's mouths. Speeches they didn't write but delivered like they meant every syllable. Books with their name on the cover and my fingerprints nowhere to be found. Scripts that sounded like them but came from me, late at night, alone, translating their half-formed ideas into something that could move a room.
I was good at it. Very good. Paid well. Awards on their shelves. Standing ovations they accepted. Nobody knew I existed. That was the point. That was the job. Disappear so completely that even you forget you were there.
Then last year happened. 53 years old. Divorce papers signed years ago but still echoing. Apartment that never stopped feeling half empty no matter how much furniture I bought. Career that looked successful from the outside, impressive even, but felt like wearing someone else's suit every single day. Smiling in a mirror that showed a stranger.
And I sat down and wrote something for myself.
First time. Terrifying. My hands actually shook. Because when you write for someone else, if it fails, it's their failure. Their name on it. Their reputation. You just move on to the next client. When you write for yourself, there's nowhere to hide. Every word is yours. Every weakness exposed. Every fear on display.
I almost didn't publish it. Wrote the whole thing and almost deleted it. Almost went back to the ghost work. Safer there. Invisible. Comfortable. Nobody could reject me because nobody knew I existed.
But something in me, maybe the divorce, maybe turning 53, maybe just being tired of being nobody, pushed publish anyway.
And then something happened that I wasn't prepared for.
Someone I've never met. Someone I'll probably never meet. Someone on the other side of the world whose face I wouldn't recognize on the street. Sent me a message that said:
"You reminded me not just who I am, but what I am. My pen is moving again."
I read that three times.
Then I closed the laptop. Walked to the window. Looked out at Queens in the dark. And I cried. Actually cried. The ugly kind. Because in twenty-something years of writing for others, not one of them, not a single one, had ever said anything close to that. Not once.
Because the words weren't mine. They were wearing a costume. A very expensive, very professional costume. And people can feel that. Even when they can't name it. Even when they think they're being moved by authenticity, something in them knows when it's performance.
Now at 54, this is the best decision I ever made. Not the smartest. Definitely not the most profitable. My accountant thinks I've lost my mind. Not the most strategic. Every business book would tell me I'm doing it wrong.
The best.
Because for the first time in my life, someone read my words. Mine. Not a client's polished thoughts. Not an actor's scripted emotion. Not a CEO's manufactured wisdom. Mine. Raw and imperfect and scared. And felt something real.
That's not a career. That's a reason to be alive. That's the thing I didn't know I was looking for during all those years of disappearing into other people's voices.
I don't know where this goes. I'm 54, not 24. The math doesn't favor late starts. Don't know if the books will sell enough to matter. Don't know if the numbers will ever make sense. Don't know if I'll have to go back to ghostwriting next month because the rent doesn't care about your artistic awakening. The landlord doesn't accept "I found my authentic voice" as payment.
But I know this: I'd rather write one honest thing that moves one person than a thousand perfect things that move nobody.
That message still sits in my inbox. I haven't archived it. Won't archive it. I read it on bad days. On days when the numbers are cruel. On days when I wonder what the hell I'm doing. On 3 AM nights when the doubt gets loud.
And it reminds me why I stopped being invisible.
Why I started signing my own name.
Why, at 54, I finally became a writer instead of a ghost.
#Writing #Ghostwriting #Honesty #WriterLife #ThoseWhoCameFromTheCode #Purpose #Vulnerability #Queens #SciFiWriter #WhyIWrite
ALT The first honest thing.
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Feb 19
✍️ I write because emotions can only be held in for so long.
The page listens when nothing else does.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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To anyone writing without applause, likes, or recognition yet:
Your story still matters. Keep going.
#WritersEncouragement #WhyIWrite #AmWriting
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Do you ever start a poem at the top of the page with the spark of an idea, but as it grows, spreading its flames down the page, it becomes something far removed from your expectations? I love it when that happens. #whyiwrite #poetrycommunity #poetry
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22 Dec 2025
✍️ I write because creating something that didn't exist before is as close to magic as I'll ever get.
Stories begin where reality ends.
➡️ More every Monday.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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22 Dec 2025
This book existed before it ever had a cover.
Life Through the Eyes of a Wolf was written to make sense of isolation, growth, and quiet endurance, not to chase trends.
Some stories aren’t loud.
They’re honest.
📖
shorturl.at/3xHyq
#IndieAuthor #WhyIWrite #QuietStrength
ALT The photo features the official book cover for Life Through the Eyes of a Wolf. There is a silhouette of a wolf howling in the bottom-right corner. The wolf is against a forest background at night. There are lines of the aurora borealis (northern lights) waving towards the top. There is a bright full moon in the top-left corner. The author's name, "A.T. Pike" is towards the top-right. The book title "Life Through the Eyes of a Wolf" is at the bottom-center of the image.
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15 Dec 2025
✍️ I write because these stories and characters fill my head until they spill out, and I can’t hold them back.
Some worlds don’t stay quiet.
➡️ More every Monday.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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1 Dec 2025
✍️ I write because if I can't live forever, I want to create something that will.
Words endure long after we’re gone.
➡️ More every Monday.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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24 Nov 2025
✍️ I write because I've been doing it since second grade.
Some habits turn into lifetimes.
➡️ More every Monday.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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17 Nov 2025
✍️ I write because written words have always been there when spoken words have failed me.
The page understands what the voice can’t say.
➡️ More every Monday.
#WhyIWrite #AmWriting #IndieAuthor
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