I imagine that every writer encounters moments when the question “What is the point of all this?” quietly creeps in.

In my experience, this is something much deeper and more unnerving than the usual writer’s block, or lack of motivation. It is that often paralysing feeling that what you have spent hours crafting may not matter after all. You actually sit down to write but arrive at a juncture where you think you are writing into the void. You probably have written articles, essays, newsletters or even books without much applause, visible impact or evidence that anyone is truly noticing. You may have shared ideas that you consider to be important, possibly out of this world, but the world seems to have moved on, indifferent to this your gem! This can be frustrating.

The Trap of Measuring Writing by Immediate Feedback

This is even more so in this age of algorithms and instant feedback. We are all susceptible to the temptation to measure value by likes, shares, comments, sales and such reactions. When we do not get these signals, our minds begin to whisper doubts as to the meaning of everything.

But writing hardly works that way. History has records of writers whose words travelled slowly before they changed lives, just as many never saw the influence that their work eventually had. Some wrote in absolute obscurity, while others wrote for really small audiences.

When Recognition Comes Late

I can cite a few examples here. The German writer, Franz Kafka, who died almost unknown, had in fact instructed his friend, Max Brod, to destroy his manuscript. Brox refused and published The Trial in 1925, a year after Kafka died. The book grew to become a defining work in existential literature. Here in Nigeria, Amos Tutuola was once criticised for the unusual language of The Palm-Wine Drinkard, yet today, the book is recognised as a landmark of African storytelling. Even the global stature of Chinua Achebe grew gradually as generations of readers discovered Things Fall Apart.

The Persistence Behind Great Works

Speaking about Things Fall Apart, the manuscript was said to have been rejected multiple times. One British publisher, even though he praised the story, was said to have told the legendary novelist that: “European readers will not understand the Igbo world and customs.”  Imagine if Achebe gave up. But he persisted. Today, Things Fall Apart is considered the definitive African novel, yet Achebe himself had to wait years to see even a fraction of its eventual impact.

Writing as an Act of Faith

The truth is that writing is often an act of faith. You are planting seeds in soil you may never walk across again.

Let’s take a moment to think about that piece of writing that shaped you, shifted your thinking or gave you clarity about something you always wanted to say but didn’t know how. Chances are that the writer never knew you existed. They wrote the piece, possibly years before you encountered it. They never saw the moment you paused mid-page and realised that someone had understood something important about life. Yet their words reached you.

The Invisible Impact of Words

One of the most profound mysteries of writing is that its real impact is rarely immediate or visible. A sentence written today may travel further than you imagine. It may sit unnoticed for months or years before finding the one reader who needs it at exactly the right moment. Writers rarely get to witness those encounters, and this is why writing can sometimes feel like you are speaking into empty air. But understand that the absence of applause is not evidence of the absence of impact. Most meaningful influence happens privately. A reader underlines a paragraph in a book. Someone shares your article with a friend. A young professional reads something you wrote and chooses to be different because of it. These are small, invisible ripples that you may never know about, but they are real!

Accepting the Nature of the Craft

We must also be honest enough to understand and accept that not every piece will change the world. Some writing will pass quietly; some ideas will fail to land, while some books travel as much as you hoped. This is how the business goes. It is not a single performance but a long conversation over time. All you need is to keep showing up, keep thinking about the world and keep trying to express something as clearly, honestly and thoughtfully as you can.

Over time, those efforts accumulate, shape a body of work, build a record of thought and contribute to conversations much larger than you.

When Doubt Becomes a Turning Point

Like in many areas of life, that point you feel is pointless might actually be the turning point. It might bring you to that place where you ask yourself, “Who do I write in the first place?”

If you get to this point and the answer is applause, then the silence will cause you pain. But if your answer is about contribution or service, then writing will become more meaningful to you.

Sending Your Words Forward into Time

If you write because some ideas deserve articulation, because stories deserve preservation, because silence would leave something important unsaid or because someone you will never meet is waiting for words that help them understand something about their life, their work, or their world, rest assured that you are sending thought forward into time. You cannot control where, how and where they land, but you can control whether you keep writing. And that is often enough.

I encourage you to keep at it. One day, it will pay off.

You can buy my book, Every Journalist Should Write a Book, here

Niran Adedokun,

Writer | Communications Strategist | Book Strategist | Author of “Every Journalist Should Write a Book