Worth Its Weight In Gold
In a masochistic move, I re-read a short story I wrote last year. It’s a draft, read by no one but me, so I was expecting garbage. But I was surprised—it was pretty good! Not perfect, could use work, but still good.
Huh. I wrote a good story. It felt like I’d found a hidden gem. Or a nugget of gold. Which got me thinking… If a nugget of gold sits undiscovered in a riverbed, does it have value? Is it worth the price of gold even if no one is aware of it? What if only you have it? That no one else knows its worth because no one knows it even exists. Does it still hold value? Does it have real value now, or is it only potential value? Does it only become worth something once you sell it?
But that can’t be right, because I pay property taxes on the estimated value of my house, whose worth increases every year in our hot real estate market. I don’t sell my house every year, even if my tax dollars go up.
So how do we define value in our writing? Does the only currency come in the form of interest from the publishing world (agents, publishers)? Are there other ways to reevaluate our own worth?
Like maybe, just maybe, my small little story that only I know about is actually worth its weight in gold. And maybe, just maybe, I can be proud of that.