I take other people's rough writing and make it sing, and my name never appears anywhere. I'm good at it, but at night I think about the stories I set aside to polish everyone else's. There's a quiet grief in it that I don't talk about.
More people experience this than they realize.
Making others' writing shine while your own sits abandoned is a quiet, private grief.
If this sounds familiar, the Library can help you find the bigger picture.