The world will keep spinning. People will go on living their lives.
The dog will need to go out; the dishes will need washing; the bananas will turn brown. The seas will rise, then fall, then rise. The sun will someday explode, and the great green Earth will be consumed in fire.
That’s what will happen if you write. Or if you don’t.
So you might ask yourself, “Why bother?” Why push through the discomfort, when, in the end, it’s all for nought? In one hundred years, will anyone know you existed? In a thousand? Ten thousand?
I can keep going. Time doesn’t have a meaningful cap. A lot can happen in a million years, and none of it will be influenced at all by what you create—or don’t create—today.
There is no such thing as a legacy with creative work. Not really. And that’s a huge relief, isn’t it? Because now you don’t have to worry about it. You can just do it.
You create art because you are a creator, just as the Beagle tracks a rabbit because he’s a Beagle.
So create for yourself. Play with the words, the emotion, the exquisite plot, the melody, the colors. Put into it everything you’ve got. Not so that you will live on.
Do it so you can live now.