Nobody

The doubt whispered in her ear that nobody would ever read this. Nobody would ever read anything she wrote. It wouldn't matter. It would drown in the ocean of words so many people wrote. But she once heard a story about a man who had written well and written all of his life who asked a famous writer why the man himself hadn't become famous and known, if he was writing just as well as the writer. The writer answered the man that he couldn't tell him why he was unlucky and some were. That sometimes it was about luck and not talent and the writer encouraged the man to stop writing. But the writer also said, that if the man couldn't stop writing, fame didn't matter, writing was in the man's blood, it was part of him and he would write simply because he had to.