“What keeps you going as a writer?”

It’s the question I posed to my guests on a recent episode of Wild Roof Journal’s podcast. I am always curious to hear what other writers have to say about their creative processes. I love getting a glimpse behind the scenes of a published piece to see what inspired it, and what got in the way of its development.

Whether it is our own perception of what kind of writing we “can” and “can’t” do, the thoughts of readers’ reactions creeping up on us, the fear of there being no readers and no reaction at all, the lack of time to devote to our craft, or the pressure to keep up a livelihood that takes us away from our creative pursuits, it’s safe to say that there are a lot of obstacles to face between the spark of inspiration and the document saved as “FINAL COPY.”

So, why do we persist through self-doubt, the fear of failure, and financial strain?

One response that my podcast guests offered is having a “creative community.” More specifically, the feeling that we are connected to other people who care about the work we do is a huge factor in our motivation to write. It can outweigh our reasons to quit, as practical and persuasive as those reasons are at times. Seeing a fellow writer persist can be the example we need to keep pushing forward. Seeing a friend’s poem get published can give us proof that acceptance letters actually exist! Perhaps the feeling of not being fully understood by the people closest to us in our everyday lives pushes us to expand outside of our comfort zone, by going to an open mic night or joining an online writing group.

Speaking personally, I wouldn’t be here writing to you if not for the creative community that sprouted up around Wild Roof Journal, the art and literature publication I started just over four years ago. In late 2019, I had a sense that many writers and artists could use some help in getting their work seen. One morning, some questions popped into my head: What if I started my own lit mag? Is that even possible? Who would submit their work . . . anyone?

There are a lot of reasons that Wild Roof Journal got off the ground—I found my various bookish interests and experience as an English professor aligning with a newfound passion for combining the written word with visual art. Sprinkle all that with a healthy dose of obsessiveness (and a dash of Capricorn determination), and the culmination was the launch of the WRJ website in 2020. However, the biggest reason why WRJ is still around today is the wonderful creative community sharing their work, sending encouraging words about each new issue, offering supporting posts on social media, and recommending WRJ to fellow creators. 

More specifically, the feeling that we are connected to other people who care about the work we do is a huge factor in our motivation to write. It can outweigh our reasons to quit, as practical and persuasive as those reasons are at times.

Inspired by this type of engagement, I decided to expand the reach of WRJ, offering poetry review sessions and online workshops, seeking collaborative projects, and starting a podcast to highlight some of our amazing contributors. I was beginning to see some new possibilities, and I wanted to interact with the people who appear on the pages of our issues in a deeper way. In the words of a previous contributor, “The community engagement with Wild Roof is so different from other journals. It feels like a real active family, rather than separate categories—writer, publisher, reader. It’s all one flowing organism!”

So what keeps me going? 

Maybe you’re sensing a theme—I value connection.

Although it’s quite rare to meet with contributors in person, there is very much a sense of connection with their work, and I love my role of sharing it with others. I’m quite certain every piece we’ve published has a story—what inspired it, how it came together, who gently nudged it to completion (and who grabbed a hold and yanked it forward when it stalled out). If I am able to step in and place that finished piece within an engaging context and present it to a supportive audience, I have made a worthwhile effort.

Being connected to people’s creative journeys is an honor and a joy. What I appreciate most about the larger literary community is the sense of interdependence that is cultivated. Showing up for each other may be the most important lesson of all, whether it’s stopping at your local bookshop to browse the shelves or subscribing to a cool new literary Substack page. Although I can’t offer any shortcuts to poet laureate-hood, practices like these may provide some stable ground to stand on as we navigate the challenges both on and off the page.