An Antidote to Embarrassment
By Joe Santini
Ambition is so often embarrassing, especially in the arts. We’ve been conditioned to believe creativity is a superfluous act rather than our birthright. To pinpoint these artistic desires within, whatever they may be, requires grueling excavation. Then, one must embark on a path towards its fruition. Finally, worst of all, one must claim it as a purpose. To define it as if divine. I want to throw up just thinking about it.
What do you mean you want to write a novel? Oh, sorry, a memoir. At your age? Is there really a market for your queer space opera? How exactly does poetry align with your financial needs at this time? These replies, however laced, only add kindling to the discomfort of trying. So, it’s easier to keep quiet and hustle alone…
Though that’s the problem…Writing as a solitary act has only ever worked for a strange few. And those few are probably not you. Trust me, I tried. Self-study workbooks. Some online classes with my camera off. An hour or two in the morning, lasting only about a week or two. I was writing, sure, but I was also playing it safe. You know, just in case. Your desire to do this is a very brave thing to admit. Honor it further by actually going for it.
At Lighthouse, I was claiming my ambition aloud, falling finally on supportive ears. A memoir? Cool! What do you want readers to walk away with? A queer space opera? Tell me about the main characters. Poetry, you say? We need it now more than ever! I dipped my toes in craft seminars, started swimming in workshops, then dove headfirst into The Book Project. At long last, I was open to support.
The embarrassment doesn’t subside immediately. Sometimes, it strikes here, too. I rarely relate to any of our literary greats, though I talk about Taylor Swift incessantly. My instructors mention authors I don’t recognize, as everyone else nods along. I submit pages that feel elementary compared to my classmates. And so forth. I no longer doubt my desire to write, but I still doubt my ability to pull this off. My pen starts to slow, but I don’t let go. Only when I learn I’m not alone does my embarrassment, the amour of my doubt, begin to fade.
In my cohort, I discovered that Heather doesn’t know that author either, and still, she writes beautifully. Cora and I analyze lyrics rather than the classics. Jenny thinks I’m great at scenes, and I extract endlessly from her meaning-making. Kendall begins her memoir differently, yet so effectively. And Bix writes fiction, but her process doesn’t feel all that different. Together, we make headway, helping remove the stickiest of hurdles, offering grace when we are unable to give it to ourselves. Do not be fooled—they will be your most valuable tool.
Yes, of course, writing requires a self-sourced source. A discipline in the dark. And near-delusion for hopes of any publication. But community will be the antidote for any embarrassment one might encounter when pursuing the arts. The humanities have always required other humans. And endeavors like yours need disciples, if only to say, “Hey! Keep going!”
It’s safe to assume that the existence of your favorite book depended on a writing community. Believe me, nonchalance is never a winning strategy. Place yourself where community comes easy, then be ready to share your embarrassing ambition with other try-hards. The friends you make will be the reason a stranger picks up your work off a shelf someday. Strive for a very lengthy Acknowledgments.
Meet the Author
Joe Santini writes with the same energy he brings to the surf—bold, unafraid to flail, and full of heart. His debut memoir, Inside the Riptide, will be published in May 2027 by DK and Penguin Random House. Originally from landlocked Colorado, Joe moved to Sri Lanka at twenty-two and is till sandy from its endless shores. A lifelong journaler, Joe transforms his experiences as a traveler, surfer, and gay man into stories for readers willing to dig deep and go further. Now 31, he is the founder of Gay Surf Week and travels full-time as a retreat host for digital nomads.
Joe is currently a mentee in The Book Project, a competitive two-year program at Denver’s Lighthouse Writers Workshop. A 2024 Art House San Clemente resident, he has also published a collection of poetry. During undergrad, he wrote travel guides encouraging classmates to study abroad and later built a career helping nonprofits expand their impact to millions across the U.S. When he’s not writing or traveling, you can find Joe reviewing milkshakes or blasting Fergie’s “London Bridge” like it never left the charts.
The Book Project
You don’t have to know the names of all the same literary favorites to find your people. The Book Project is where you will find a cohort of others who understand your literary goals and do not push their own on you.
