THE CALL OF THE READERS

Minh sat silently in front of his computer screen, the cursor blinking on the blank page of his writing software. It had been a week since he last wrote anything. Ideas slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, disappearing before they could take shape. He looked back at the old chapters of his story—words he had once written with all his passion now felt distant and lifeless.

The weight of expectation pressed heavily on his shoulders. It wasn’t just about finishing a book; it was about living up to what his readers had come to love. The more he thought about it, the more paralyzed he felt. Every word seemed wrong, every sentence inadequate. Was this what they called writer’s block? Or was it something deeper—an exhaustion of the soul, a creeping fear that he had already given his best work and had nothing left to offer?

He sighed and scrolled through his inbox. Lately, he hadn't had the courage to read readers' comments. He was afraid. Afraid they would notice his decline, afraid they would see that his story had lost its initial spark. He had once found joy in interacting with them, in seeing how his words resonated with strangers from different corners of the world. But now, all he could feel was doubt. What if they had lost faith in him? What if they had moved on?

But then, a subject line caught his eye: "Don't give up, Minh!"

His heart trembled slightly. It was a letter from a loyal reader—Lan. She had followed his story from the very beginning. With slightly trembling hands, he opened the email:

"Minh,

I noticed that you've been quiet lately. I'm not sure if you're facing any difficulties, but I just wanted to say that we're still here. We—the readers who cherish every word you write—are still waiting.

I still remember the feeling of reading the first chapter of your story. Your words pulled me into another world, a place where I could escape from the weariness of life. Your story has been a part of my days.

Even if you think your words are not as beautiful as before, even if you feel lost, please remember this: To us, every word you write has meaning. We don’t expect perfection—we expect you."

Minh stopped, a lump forming in his throat. He reread the message, letting each word sink in. He had always thought of writing as a solitary journey, but this email reminded him that it wasn’t. His words had reached people. His stories had made a difference, no matter how small.

He continued reading more messages from other readers. Some shared how they found comfort in his pages during their lonely times. Others said his characters had given them strength during difficult days. Some simply wrote: "We’re always here, waiting for you."

One message stood out. It was from a reader who had been struggling with depression. She wrote about how one of Minh’s characters had inspired her to keep going, how a single line from his book had given her the courage to face another day. "I don’t think you realize," she wrote, "but your words saved me."

Minh felt something stir deep within him. This was why he had started writing in the first place—not for fame, not for recognition, but to create something that could touch people's lives. And even now, even when he felt lost, his words still mattered to someone.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The mental block that had weighed on him slowly faded, replaced by a warm feeling. Minh was no longer alone. From the other side of the screen, there were people waiting for him, waiting for the world he created.

He opened his writing software, placed his hands on the keyboard. He hesitated for just a moment, then began to type. The words were slow at first, hesitant, but soon they began to flow, like a long-dormant river finding its path once more.

For the first time in weeks, Minh began to write again. And this time, he knew—he wasn’t just writing for himself. He was writing for them, too.

My shop if you need.