Daniela Silva, Low Entropy Volunteer Writer
Seeing others progress faster than you can be disheartening. And the worst part? You don’t even know who you’re competing against: the world, time or yourself. It’s in that strange, silent space between admiration and frustration where the real story begins.
The human brain is wired to compare, even when we don’t want it to. So when you see someone achieve in months what has taken you years, your mind sets off alarms you never asked for. This isn’t just emotion; it’s neurobiology. Nevertheless, behind every comparison lies something profoundly human: the desire to finally feel “enough.” However, this is not possible because, just as we experience hunger every day, we also experience emptiness.
And just when we think we have filled a void, a larger one appears
I have been translating the world into words since I was 11 years old. That means I have been writing since that time, when I got my first diary from my mother.
I began my professional journey as a kindergarten teacher, but I always stood out when it came to writing. When I had to prepare semester reports on student performance, the way I described each step of their development caught the attention of coordinators and principals.
Writing has always been a part of me, and I needed to turn it into a craft. However, just as we feel passion for something, we also experience pain. From that moment until today, I have struggled to gain recognition as a writer.
I took up a volunteer position as an educational writer for a homeschooling institution. In partnership with this organization, I wrote my first book on education and literacy. I was thrilled and grateful for the opportunity, as writing a book had always been a childhood dream of mine.
As a fan of movies based on works by writers like Stephen King, the master of horror and suspense, I’ve always imagined talking to readers about my book, taking photos and signing autographs. However, since I write nonfiction, achieving this is a bit more difficult, though not impossible (at least, I hope!). The truth is that my book did not have a significant impact. Only a few copies were printed—the kind you can count on your fingers. There were no photos, fans or autographs. Just silence and emptiness. A great emptiness.
But despite the great void, I followed my conscience: “Whatever happens, keep writing.” I have never stopped since then, and I must confess that it is much more difficult to get published as a foreign writer—I am Brazilian—than it is for a native English-speaking columnist. And when you are the child of a famous writer, success does not have to be achieved; it is already within you, waiting to be realised.
A contemporary fiction writer once revealed that he had chosen to publish under a different name in order to avoid being immediately associated with his world-famous literary father. Although he later built a solid career and became a best-selling author in his own right, growing up in the shadow of such a legacy inevitably offered visibility and advantages that can influence any writer’s professional journey.
However, my story unfolds differently. As a foreign writer trying to establish myself, I have had to face the challenges of carving out a place in the sun entirely alone. Despite my dedication, the two short stories I have written have gained little visibility. Nevertheless, I persist, moving between the worlds of education and mental health and writing whenever I can, hoping that my words will one day reach great heights.
Today, we can see that success paves the way, creating opportunities and opening prominent positions for “nepo babies.” This term refers to the children of famous individuals or established professionals who either follow in their parents’ footsteps or benefit from an easier path because of them. And I can’t help but believe that if I, too, had influential contacts in the literary world, a few more doors might have opened along my journey.
I am not a nepo baby, nor do I have influential contacts in my chosen career, which is why the road ahead is long and full of obstacles. However, that doesn’t mean I’m thinking of giving up. I continue to work as an essayist. I write reflective and argumentative pieces on education, mental health and personal experiences. I write non-fiction for a world that barely reads anymore, but is immersed in videos, podcasts and social media. And still, I write—because in a world that scrolls, I choose to stay, sentence after sentence, refusing to disappear.
Maybe this is what it feels like to watch other people improve faster than you: to keep walking, even when no one is looking, trusting that your time will eventually arrive . . .
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