Every Writer Needs a Room of Strangers

How I Learned to Stop Relying on Favors and Start Finding True Fans

by Fayla Ott

When I first started this journey, I imagined that one day, everyone I knew would be
utterly amazed that the literary genius they’d overlooked would rise from the ranks of
the ordinary.

And no, I wasn’t picturing myself dancing with Patrick Swayze. That would be cool,
sure, but I don’t dance in public. I stick to storytelling. Trust me, it’s safer.

That hubris soaked my early expectations and eventually rained on my publishing parade. Because, spoiler alert: it didn’t unfold the way I pictured it. Imagine that!

To be fair, I have both friends and family who’ve gone above and beyond—buying books, reviewing them, sharing my posts, and offering kind encouragement. I don’t take that lightly. Their support has meant more than they know, and I’ll never forget it. I hold those people close, not just because they showed up, but because they didn’t have to.
Their support came from the heart, not out of obligation.

But I’ve also been disappointed. There were moments when I quietly expected more,
especially from those I’ve supported without ever being asked. And when they didn’t
reciprocate, it left a sting I didn’t quite know how to name.

The hardest part of this journey hasn’t been reaching strangers with my stories. It’s
been accepting that friends may not be my intended audience.

That realization didn’t come overnight. In the beginning, it felt deeply personal. I’d put
my heart on the page—surely someone I knew would resonate with it, celebrate it, or
take five minutes to leave a review. But the silence from certain corners became loud
enough to teach me something: God didn’t call me to write stories for the people in my
circle. He called me to write for the readers He’s prepared on the outside.

I once read a blog post by an author who argued that we should expect our friends’
support. And I get it—I really do. The hours we spend creating, editing, doubting,
reworking—it’s sacred work. And it’s hard. We naturally hope that the people we know
will care about it the way we do. But even Jesus acknowledged that a prophet is not
without honor except in his own hometown. The people familiar to us are often the least likely to fully understand His call on our lives.

But I no longer see it as a betrayal. I see it as a boundary.

God doesn’t always use the familiar to fulfill His purpose. In fact, He often works through unexpected people in unexpected places. The same is true for writers. The stories He gives us aren’t meant to be shared only with those who already know our voice—they’re meant to reach strangers who need them.

I’ve learned to see this shift not as a rejection, but as a redirection. The more I stopped
straining for recognition from familiar faces, the more my voice grew into its own. My
creativity felt less anxious. My calling felt clearer. And my joy in the work returned—not
because everyone I knew showed up, but because I showed up anyway. And guess
what? It has made all the difference in the world.

We can’t let God work in our ministry if we don’t let go of it first. Trust me, it’s better than watching me dance in public.

I don’t take it personally anymore. Most of the time, it’s not a slight. It’s just life. People are busy. They have their own stories to carry.

Are you letting go of who you thought would show up? If so, be encouraged. What comes next can be even better than anything our egos could imagine.

And on the rare occasion that the silence is personal—well, that’s another blog post.

“Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.” ~ Ecclesiastes 11:1 (KJV)

Fayla Ott is an award-winning author of historical and supernatural suspense fiction with emotionally rich themes and gritty spiritual depth. She’s an English professor, homeschooling mom, and speaker who believes stories are a powerful ministry. Learn more about her books at www.faylaott.com.