Forget Publishing: The Freedom in Writing for Yourself

Annie Cosby
July 15, 2024 | 6 min read

Many, if not most, unpublished writers dream of publication. It's what so many of us strive for. For many, it's the reason they write.

But what do you lose when you only write with the goal of publication? What happens when you aren't looking to publish?

Well, lifelong writer Patrick McCafferty says, what happens is freedom.

I first met Patrick McCafferty, who lives and writes in Wichita, Kansas, when he won our Start with Alpha giveaway. Before winning, he says he mostly journaled in Sprinter, our in-browser software for freewriting, and was looking forward to having his own Freewrite.

As I spoke with him, he let something slip that hit me right in the soul:

"I've been writing since my early 20s. Back then, I desperately wanted to be published; I was pretty driven at that time, but I let life get in the way. I'm 70 now and I’m not so compelled to be published, so mostly I write for my own pleasure. I don’t want writing to turn into something that stresses me."

It wasn't said with regret. In fact, Patrick sounded confident and comfortable with his writing life. Even enamored with it.

As a writer who has pretty much always pursued publication, it made me pause and wonder: What was I missing out on by not writing things just for me?

Read on to learn what Patrick had to say about his lifelong love affair with writing and sharing with others.

I'm 70 now and I’m not so compelled to be published, so mostly I write for my own pleasure. I don’t want writing to turn into something that stresses me.

ANNIE COSBY: Let's start at the beginning. When did you first start writing?

PATRICK MCCAFFERTY: My earliest inspiration as a writer was a writing project my brother was working on in grade school. (He’s 3 years older than me.)

It was a fantasy story about a group of his friends traveling to a different planet and having adventures.

All these years later, I remember the visuals in my head like it was yesterday.

AC: That's the mark of a good story! 

PM: Yes. Then, in my early twenties, I started writing short stories. I have written nearly every day since then, except for a few stretches when I have been distracted with something else.

Over the years, I’ve been inconsistent as to what application I use to write, so I don't always keep track of streaks. My Postbox Profile has helped with that.

Mostly, the writing I do now is journaling; I need to manifest the thoughts in my head in physical form to see them and process them.

I wrote a novel during NaNoWriMo a few years ago, and I really enjoyed that. I also love writing very short pieces that come into my head, based on characters or situations. When I write fiction, I’m writing “for” someone — mostly that’s my brother.

But journal writing can be about anything. It unleashes my creativity and can take any form. This is very freeing.

It also allows me to discover some of my own wants and needs. And sometimes the difference between the two. 

Journaling can also help with the dreaded writer’s block. If I'm stuck, I can usually go over to my journal and write something — anything — to help me jump out of a thinking rut.

 

AC: There’s definitely a certain power in writing only for yourself. What do you think people stand to gain when they stop being so fixated on publication?

PM: I think that not caring whether a piece gets published frees me to write what I want instead of what I think someone else wants. It certainly eliminates the pressure of writing “great stuff” that will sell.

I believe there are many people out there who are looking at what is selling and then trying to write something that will latch on to the latest trend. I have nothing against people who make a living doing that, it’s just not my thing.

But one of the things that we lose in writing only for ourselves is that it’s easy to forget that the main purpose of writing is to communicate with others. 

It’s important for me to keep writing as if my words are for someone else to read. Reading a lot can help us know what people like and understand.

AC: We always think of publication, but there are other, very fulfilling ways to share our work, too. You mentioned writing for your brother. Do you share your work in other ways?

PM: When I was younger, a group of friends used to get together and pick a topic and start writing ultra short stories and then we would read them.

It was a little like standing naked in front of these people, but they were all safe and we were kind to each other.

I learned that everyone has their brilliant moments, and everyone has their boring moments, but you just keep writing, letting the creativity flow through you.

AC: That's such a good way to put it. Letting someone read your work does feel that way. How do you decide what to write about?

PM: I like to take a topic and spend 40 minutes writing whatever the topic inspires. I love the process of letting my creativity flow.

Book titles are an excellent source of topics. I like to collect titles in the fiction section in a bookstore or library. I know I could go online and get a million different titles all at once, but I like to spontaneously find a title and let it speak to me. It’s better that I don’t know anything about the book. I collect titles I’ve found and when I’m looking for a topic I choose one at random.

I personally have a spreadsheet with titles that I’ve liked. Paintings, drawings, and other artwork are great sources of inspiration for writing, as well as the titles of the paintings themselves.

If I don’t quite get a story bubbling up inside me when I’ve chosen a topic, I can add a character. I use family, friends, and acquaintances whose personalities I know for that. Using their name while I write helps me keep their personality in mind and how they would react in a particular situation. Of course, I change the name if I ever let anyone read it!

Maybe I'm addicted to that flow of writing that allows me to just dip into characters' lives in my imagination.

Maybe I'm addicted to that flow of writing that allows me to just dip into characters' lives in my imagination.

AC: You often use our app, Sprinter, to write, correct?

PM: Yes, I enjoy using Sprinter because it forces me to get out the words as best I can, and then I can edit them later. (Except with journal writing, I don't edit them later.)

I usually write directly in my journal with a header with the topic name, and then another header to indicate the end, so that in my editor, which is sometimes Google Docs, Dabble Writer, or Drafts, I can easily find those topics. I can pluck them out, put them in their own project, and work on them further.

But I'm looking forward to receiving my first Freewrite device soon. I used an AlphaSmart device in the past, but have found them to be unreliable. Thanks to the giveaway, I've ordered Smart Typewriter and Alpha. 

AC: Do you think that people need to write things that will never see the light of day?

PM: I think I need to write my thoughts. It might be too painful or embarrassing to admit something to another person, but writing about it can be very cathartic.

We, as humans, need to express ourselves creatively, whether that’s through various types of art, or through our work, whatever that is. For a lot of people it’s telling stories.

There are an infinite number of stories to tell, just as there are an infinite number of ways to teach other people how to do things, and ways to make music. It brings us joy.

I think we need that.

AC: I think so, too. Thanks for chatting with us about your writing life, Patrick. I hope people find inspiration and motivation in your words like I have.

Check out Patrick's writing stats on Postbox.

Recommended articles

More recommended articles for you

March 22, 2025 4 min read

I’ve spent years writing while secretly fearing that a single misplaced word would expose me — not just as a bad writer, but as a fraud.

My background is originally in photography, and I see it there, too. A photographer I know recently posted a before-and-after comparison of their editing from 2018 versus now, asking if we also saw changes in our own work over the years.

Naturally, we should. If our work is the same, years apart, have we really grown as artists?

So why is that the growing, the process of it, the daily grind of it, is so painful?

So why is that the growing, the process of it, the daily grind of it, is so painful?

The Haunting

Hitting “publish” on an essay or a blog always stirs up insecurity — the overthinking, the over-editing. The fear that someone will call me out for not being a real writer.

I initially hesitated to make writing part of my freelance work. My background is in photography and design. Writing was something I gravitated toward, but I had no degree to validate it. No official stamp of approval.

Like many writers, I started with zero confidence in my voice — agonizing over edits, drowning in research, second-guessing every word.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

If my words weren’t my own, they couldn’t be wrong. Ghostwriting meant safety — no risk, no vulnerability, just words without ownership.

I still remember the feeling of scrolling to the bottom of an article I had written and seeing someone else’s name, their face beside words that had once been mine.

The truth is, I always wanted to write. As a kid, I imagined it. Yet, I found myself handing over my work, letting someone else own it.

I told myself it didn’t matter. It was work. Getting paid to write should be enough.

But here’s the thing: I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

The Disappearing Act

This was true when I was writing under my own name, too. The more I worried about getting it right, the less I sounded like me.

I worried. I worried about how long an essay was (“people will be bored”), finding endless examples as proof of my research (“no way my own opinion is valid on its own”), the title I gave a piece (“it has to be a hook”), or editing out personal touches (“better to be safe than be seen”).

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting. Advice meant to help only locked me in. It created a sentence rewritten to sound smarter, an opinion softened to sound safer, a paragraph reshaped to sound acceptable.

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

It took deliberate effort to break this habit. I’m not perfect, but here’s what I know after a year of intentionally letting my writing sound like me:

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

The Resurrection

The drive for acceptance is a slippery slope — one we don’t always realize we’re sliding down. It’s present in the small choices that pull us away from artistic integrity: checking how others did it first, tweaking our work to fit a mold, hesitating before saying what we actually mean.

And let’s be honest — this isn’t just about writing. It bleeds into everything.

It’s there when we stay silent in the face of wrongdoing, when we hold back our true way of being, when we choose work that feels “respectable,” whatever that means. It’s in every “yes” we say when we really want to say “no.”

If your self-expression is rooted in a need for acceptance, are you creating for yourself — or for others? Does your work help you explore your thoughts, your life? Does it add depth, energy, and meaning?

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

I get it. We’re social creatures. Isolation isn’t the answer. Ignoring societal norms won’t make us better writers. Often, the most meaningful work is born from responding to or resisting those norms.

But knowing yourself well enough to recognize when acceptance is shaping your work brings clarity.

Am I doing this to be part of a community, to build connections, to learn and grow?

Or am I doing this to meet someone else’s expectations, dulling my voice just to fit in?

The Revival

Here’s what I know as I look back at my writing: I’m grateful for the years spent learning, for the times I sought acceptance with curiosity. But I’m in a different phase now.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

It’s our differences that drive growth. I want to nurture these connections, to be challenged by difference, to keep writing in a way that feels like me. The me who isn’t afraid to show what I think and care about.

So, I ask you, as I ask myself now:

If no one was watching, if no one could judge, what would you write?

If no one was watching, if no one could judge, what would you write?

March 20, 2025 6 min read

A book deal without an agent? An agent offer after a book deal? Learn how Writer Bobby Miller took his publishing journey into his own hands. 

March 19, 2025 1 min read

We've chatted with the creatures of Middle Earth to discover their writing preferences and which Freewrite devices work best for each of them.

Find your Lord of the Rings identity and discover your next Freewrite.