Real Talk: A Writer’s Thanksgiving

Grateful for $2.50 and the Dream It Represents

It’s Thanksgiving, and like most people, I’ve been thinking about what I’m thankful for this year. Family, health, a few good meals here and there—sure, those are the classics. But today, something small but meaningful joined that list: $2.50.

Let me explain.

It started earlier this week while I was at my day job. Between tasks, I glanced at my bank account—not expecting much, just one of those “Do I need to eat ramen this week?” checks. And there it was: a royalty payment. Two dollars and fifty cents, earned from a short story I’d published on Amazon months ago.

I know what you’re thinking: That’s not even enough for a cup of coffee these days. But for me, it was a quiet moment of validation. It meant someone, somewhere, read my story. They didn’t just skim the blurb—they bought it, opened it, and (hopefully) lived in the world I created, even if just for a moment.

As a writer, those moments are everything.

Thanksgiving is about gratitude, and this year, I’m giving thanks for every person who has read my work. To the reader who gave my characters a home in their imagination, to the stranger who took a chance on a story with my name on the cover—thank you. That $2.50 may seem small, but it feels huge when I think about what it represents.

It’s a reminder that what we create matters, even in ways we don’t always see. Writing is often a solitary act. You spend hours alone, shaping words, doubting yourself, revising, doubting again. But when someone reads those words, it becomes a connection—a bridge between their world and yours. And in a way, that $2.50 felt like a bridge back to me, reminding me to keep going.

I’m also thankful for you—whoever you are, reading this blog post. Maybe you’re a fellow writer grinding away at your own projects. Maybe you’re someone looking for a little inspiration. Either way, I hope this serves as a reminder: the small wins matter. The quiet moments matter. And even $2.50 can mean the world when it shows you that your work has found an audience.

So as I sit down tomorrow to enjoy a meal (and maybe dream about someday affording dessert), I’ll be thinking about the little victories. I’ll be thinking about that $2.50, yes, but also the dream it represents. And I’ll be giving thanks for every single reader who has ever taken a chance on my stories.

To all of you: Happy Thanksgiving. And thank you for helping me keep the dream alive.