I would recommend Stephen King’s On Writing for any aspiring writer, or artist, or just anyone. It is that good. Filled with wisdom, there is one story that has stuck with me for years. Stephen King writes of a time when a teacher thought he was “wasting” his talent writing in his chosen genre. “What I don’t understand, Stevie,” she said, “is why you’d write junk like this in the first place. You’re talented. Why do you want to waste your abilities?”
That single question weighed on him. The King of Horror, as he would later become, shares: “I was ashamed. I have spent a good many years since—too many, I think—being ashamed about what I write. I think I was forty before I realized that almost every writer of fiction and poetry who has ever published a line has been accused by someone of wasting his or her God-given talent. If you write (or paint or dance or sculpt or sing, I suppose), someone will try to make you feel lousy about it, that’s all. I’m not editorializing, just trying to give you the facts as I see them.”
The thing about King’s story? It's universal.
Be it the artist, the entrepreneur, the student, or the dreamer, each of us has faced, at one time or another, the sharp critique of external voices, determining for us the worth of our passions. While King’s art is in weaving words, his experience is not limited to writers. It echoes in the corridors of every profession, every dream.
We all face innumerable invisible battles each day. One such battle is against the external—often well-meaning—voices trying to chart our course based on their compass, not ours.
Why does this phenomenon persist? Why do people, even those who care deeply for us, attempt to veer us away from our true north? There's an underbelly of reasons. Some critics project their fears and insecurities. Having steered clear of their heart's compass, they now wade in the waters of regret, making attempts, conscious or otherwise, to ensure others follow their path. For others, it is simply an earnest, albeit misguided, desire to protect loved ones from potential failure or heartache.
But here's the rub: they aren't us.
Each person's journey is uniquely theirs, riddled with choices, mistakes, lessons, and victories that others can hardly fathom. As the legendary sage Laozi beautifully put, “Because one believes in oneself, one doesn't try to convince others. Because one is content with oneself, one doesn't need others' approval. Because one accepts oneself, the whole world accepts him or her.”
Now, isn't that the crux of it all? Self-belief. The fundamental tenet that governs our choices. It's the protective shield against the barrage of external opinions. With self-belief, our choices, no matter how unorthodox, stand validated. With self-belief, we follow the rhythm of our heart, and in doing so, find a harmony that resonates with the world.
But building this shield takes courage—a quiet rebellion against the status quo. It demands introspection, often painful, to recognize and discard the weight of others' expectations. It requires resilience to stand firm against naysayers and forge ahead with our vision. And most of all, it calls for unyielding love and acceptance of oneself, even when the world seems to sing a different tune.
Because the world eventually listens. It hears the conviction in the beat of a heart that has found its rhythm. And slowly, it starts dancing to that same beat.
The winding roads of life are best navigated with our own internal compass. For if we anchor our decisions and paths to external voices, we risk drifting away from our essence. Like a ship lost at sea, swayed by every passing wind, we remain restless, discontent, perpetually searching.
Yet, by claiming ownership of our journey, by recognizing and honoring our unique song, we not only find fulfillment but also inspire others to do the same. We send a message, clear and resounding, that every individual’s passion, be it writing horror tales or painting abstracts, holds inherent value.
So, the next time someone projects their roadmap onto your journey, recall Stephen King. Today, the world reveres him not because he chose to write what was ‘cerebral’ but because he remained authentic to his voice.
Your journey too is sacred. It’s a canvas waiting for the brushstrokes of your choices. Let it reflect your colors, your essence. After all, when we believe, accept, and content ourselves with our choices, the world not only takes note but also joins our dance.