I’m writing this blog post in late January, prompted by a couple of recent observations. The first is writers posting on social media about being disappointed that they/their books did not make “end-of-year/best-of” lists; the second is that the Bram Stoker Awards preliminary ballot has been released and a few folks will inevitably feel let down by it.

And I want to preface what’s below with this: It’s okay to be disappointed! It’s okay to feel let down! It’s okay to feel your feelings!

But here are some other things I think: It’s not okay to get so discouraged that you put yourself or your writing down. It’s not okay to decide your talent or validity rests upon one list or a thousand lists. It’s not okay to let your disappointment turn into the kind of envy or bitterness that kills all the generosity and goodwill inside you.

Because if we go back to basics, back to the real truth for most of us, we will realize that when we first picked up a pen or started clacking the keyboard, we didn’t do it because we wanted to win an award or make one person’s subjective “best of whatever year” list. We wrote because we wanted to write.

This is living the dream: we write the heck out of something, maybe we revise the heck out of it too, and if we are fortunate, we publish it somewhere, in a book or online (the way I am gonna hit “publish” on this blog post!). But maybe we don’t publish it, and that’s okay too. Each project, each effort comes to an end in some way, and the celebration for that work is that we get to restart the process. We create, we love the act of creation, and then we get to do it again.

Of course awards and nominations and publications are nice. I am not arguing that–I feel validated by those things, when they happen. But I promise you I’m not sitting here mad today that I didn’t make the prelim ballot for the Stokers. Because guess what? MOST OF US DID NOT MAKE IT. Think of all the writers you love who aren’t on that list either. They’re fantastic; their work is fantastic. Not being on a list doesn’t suddenly nullify their merit. YOU not being on a list doesn’t nullify YOUR merit.

I asked a few friends–many of them award winners–why they REALLY write. I hope you enjoy their answers as much as I do.

“I have always written because I want my reality to be more adventurous. I want to hear the epic sagas of the trees in my backyard. I want to know what deep struggles the random people on the street all feel. Everything has a story, and I am endlessly curious about what those stories are. I write to pull these tales out of the ether, so we can all learn more about our world and the many other worlds around us.”

-Sam Rebelein, author of Edenville, Galloway’s Gospel, and more

“I write because my brain is a crowded place. I write because there’s something ineffable and unknowable within me that I can only express through stories.”

-Lindsay Merbaum, author of The Gold Persimmon, Vampires at Sea, and more; founder of The Study Coven, Pick Your Potions

“Stories are companions for loneliness. I’ve been comforted and challenged by so many. It’s an act of care to leave a few behind.”

-Jamie Flanagan, actor; screenwriter (Midnight Mass, Fall of the House of Usher, and more); author of “Moira,” the forthcoming Deserters, and more

“Writing is the only dream that I’ve ever had. From the time I learned to read, it’s been a constant dream. Writing is who I am.”

-Candace Nola, author of the Hank Flynn series, Bishop, and more

“I write because writing is therapy and helps me really process what I’m feeling or dealing with in a safe place where I can assign the pain to a fictional version of me instead of the real one. And in doing so, I believe I can help others who are dealing with similar things and maybe show them a path to explore those feelings that they otherwise don’t have. Over all, I think horror writers deal in grief and empathy and explore it through fiction because most of us have experienced trauma and do not want others to actually feel what we feel.”

-James Sabata, author of Fat Camp, The Cassowary, and more

“I’ve dabbled in most mediums (audio, visual, etc.) and I consider writing to be the medium that is the most transportable and vital for human existence. Like philosophy, writing is unbelievably disrespected and undervalued. Until telepathy comes along, we’re all going to live in a world of Stop signs, street maps, medicinal directions, furniture instructions, voting machines, news, and money. Even those who worship AI have to concede that in order to write prompts competently, one must still understand the underlying language that informs said prompts. Therefore, I write because we live in a world that requires navigation, and I’m doing what I consider to be my duty to assist in directing people towards empathy, happiness, and entertainment, and away from ignorance, misery and destruction.”

-Moaner Lawrence, author of “Bad Newes from New England,” “The Great American Nightmare,” and more; founder of Fright Club

“I write because I see stories everywhere. I write to understand my own emotional responses to the world around me. I write to understand myself better, so I can try to be a better person. I write because I love to read, and sometimes (very occasionally) I think I might be able to tell something in a different, maybe even better way, than something I have read before.”

-Jonathan Gensler, author “Tommy the Leg Ain’t No Witch,” “Don’t Tell,” “One Red Glove,” and more; founder of The Modern Macabrist

But, feelings can’t be logicked away, so, what are a few things you can DO today, if you still find yourself a bit down? Here are some ideas:

-Tell people congratulations. Not just the ballot names, but folks who are posting about something new they tried, something they finished, whether it’s writing related or not. Celebrate others. It will make you feel better. I promise.

-Write it out. Hit your journal. Tell it why you are feeling bad. Write a poem. Whatever. If it’s on the page, maybe you can get it out of your head and stop the negativity loop.

-Remind yourself of a project you’re excited about–not for its award-winning potential–but because it’s going to be fun and interesting.

-Count your wins. I bet you have lots to be proud of. Write them down if it helps.

-Ask what your past self would be happy to know. My 2022 self wished, someday, that she could publish a book. I could knock that weirdo’s socks off, if I could go back and tell her what I’ve gotten to do.

Okay. That’s it. Go write something fabulous.