I learned the difference between writing as a job and a hobby when I signed on for employment at Coffee House Writers.

Before I took the role, I wrote during opportune times or when inspiration struck. Although I was more articulate on paper or when typing, it has been an outlet for the things I couldn’t verbalize. This style allowed me to work through the things on my heart-and sharing with others, I hoped, would allow me to feel less alone. However, the highs came from seeing the likes and comments arrive after I posted to my pages. My validation stemmed from hearing positive responses from followers, but always on my terms.

Some weeks, I miss the freedom. Some days, I would stare at my computer screen with nothing to say. Deadlines loomed, forcing me to figure something out, regardless. Employment doesn’t bend to one’s preferences; I knew that. The new structure unsettled me, making me worry my posts would fall short. With strictness, left feelings of being stuck and exposed.

Throughout my life, encouragement for my writing talent was constant. Still, belief in my potential remained limited. Joining online communities brought comfort and intimidation in equal measure. Insecurities festered with each post, and as I read others’ articles. Questions raced through my head: Was I as good as fellow authors? Could I keep up with deadlines? Would my best be enough? But, the thrill of connecting pushed forward; while liberating, it never answered how skilled I was at the craft.

Once I committed, answers emerged with each week. Sitting down to write no longer meant inspiration struck, but a deadline approached-a stress that sometimes dulled my desire to write. After six months on the job, I saw changes in my prose. Having an editor’s feedback and guidance was a privilege I sought, though I still shuddered at the thought. What if this seasoned writer saw right through me?

Anxiety about my submissions being torn apart for grammatical errors or lack of skill lingered. The actual critique was nothing like I feared. Each editor I’ve encountered enriched my growing toolbox, offering something different. I banished these worries by reflecting on the skills I developed each week. Some taught me the beauty of content placement and how a story could flow by placing the words in a certain way, while others polished my grammar and ensured I didn’t repeat myself. While I missed my former freedom, I found answers to questions I didn’t realize I was seeking.

Each week, I showed up even when it felt like I had nothing left. Too often, I worried about whether what I submitted was my best work, not wanting to let my team down. Time and muse rarely aligned, requiring extra strength to produce some weeks. I had many instances of thinking I had handed in something lacking because of being tired, but received pleasant feedback and encouraging thoughts on what I had handed in. There was gratification in knowing that even with personal hardships, people still enjoyed what I wrote. Tangible growth in my submissions became visible. The muse was no longer in charge. I took pride in hitting my deadlines and delivering polished work.

Building prowess takes time. A newfound motivation shifted things in ways I never expected. With each post, I carved out space for both passion and betterment. In showing up for myself, I discovered the masterclass I never knew I needed.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero