„Am I Too Early?”: On Claiming Your Space Before You Think You’re Ready

There’s a quiet question that’s followed me ever since I pressed publish on this website:

Is it too soon?

I haven’t released a book yet. My stories live in a hundred open tabs and scattered notebooks. Some are half-whispered outlines. Some are still more feeling than form. And yet, here I am, showing up in the world as a writer.

Some days, that feels bold. Other days, it feels like wearing shoes two sizes too big, hoping I’ll grow into them.

But here’s what I’m learning: waiting until you’re “ready” often means never starting at all.

We are always becoming.

I didn’t build this website because I had something to sell. I built it because I have something to say, even if it’s still unfolding. This space is a quiet room with the door cracked open. A place for you to peek in while the ink is still drying.

It’s easy to think that visibility should come after validation. After you’ve signed a deal. After you’ve perfected your manuscript. After someone else says you’ve earned your place.

But the truth is? Believing in your stories before the world does is one of the fiercest acts of love you can offer your creative self.

This is not the finish line. It’s the prologue.

Every author you admire had a first page. A shaky sentence. A moment when they weren’t sure anyone would care. The difference is, they kept going. They claimed space in the world for their stories.

That’s all this is. A small, sacred stake in the ground. A declaration: I’m here. And I have stories to tell.

Even if I’m still writing them.

Even if I’m still figuring it out.

Even if I’m still becoming the person who will someday hold that book in her hands.

If you’re asking, “Am I ready?”, maybe you already are.

Not because everything’s perfect. But because you care enough to ask.

So here’s to the messy middle. To the blogs that come before blurbs. To the websites built on hope and HTML. To the writers who dare to say “I’m not published yet, but I’m writing anyway.”

If that’s you, I see you.

Pull up a chair.

The story’s just beginning.

With love,

Eleanor