The Joy of Being Unknown

Everyone talks about wanting to be seen.

To grow fast. Go viral. Be known. Famous. Big.

But I think there’s something deeply magical about being small.

Being unknown.

Being new.

When you’re new, you get to play.

You can experiment in public. Test things, mess them up, try again, switch things up altogether.

You can try on different styles and genres, write under different pen names, whisper weird thoughts into the void.

You can be unapologetically new in your craft, without tripping over your own fame or trying to protect a brand before it’s even born.

There’s freedom in that.

In writing messy little posts like this.

In figuring out your voice before the spotlight finds you.

In building slowly and learning who you are while you create, not after.

These are the things no one mentions when people give you marketing tips or tell you to blow up on TikTok or other social media platforms. As if we all want the pressure of going viral.

Nah.

Honestly?

I love being new.

I love that I can write anything I want in my own little corner of the internet.

That I can share my chaotic thoughts, jump between themes, test new formats, and just… be real while I figure myself out.

Because how many of us actually have ourselves figured out?

Even more so for a writer. Where you start is so very often not where you end up.

And every time I post, I get a little closer.

I’m getting clearer on my voice.

Clearer on what I want to say.

And one day, when I am ready for a larger stage, I’ll have a whole body of work behind me—not polished and perfect, but lived-in. Earned. Wild. Me.

So to everyone who’s been here from the start: thank you.

Thanks for reading my strange little blogs and essays.

Thanks for reading my earlier books and short stories and supporting my work.

Thanks for sticking with me while I shift, stumble, and shape.

And if you’re still in the early phase—if you’re writing into the void or creating just for the joy of it—this is your reminder:

• It’s good to be unknown.

• It’s a gift to have the freedom to grow without pressure.

• Your obscurity is not a weakness. It’s a greenhouse. One that can be very fun and peaceful.

Take your time.

You'll step out when you're ready.

If you want to.

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I’ve written as Sarah Kate Ishii for a long time. She was my explorer. But Sarah Caelan is my anchor, my fire, and the name I’ll be writing under from here on. Welcome to the new era.

Where old Celtic stone and roots meet the wild sea. In book form.