I dreamed about this as a kid, that I would write - and people

In the words of Rae Carson, we hear the voice of one who has walked the long path from dream to fulfillment: “I dreamed about this as a kid, that I would write – and people would read – a whole series of books. I feel accomplished, giddy, and tired. Mostly, though, I feel thankful. A trilogy is a huge investment on the part of author, publisher, and reader, and I'm grateful that so many people were willing to invest along with me.” This is not the shallow boast of success, but the song of a soul who knows the weight of dreams realized and the sacred labor required to bring them into being.

At the heart of her words lies the childhood dream, fragile yet enduring. As a child, Carson envisioned herself writing stories, weaving worlds that others would one day enter. Such dreams, born in innocence, often flicker out when confronted by the harsh winds of reality. But here we see a rare triumph: the dream carried through to completion, not by chance, but by perseverance, labor, and faith. Her feeling of being “accomplished, giddy, and tired” is the confession of one who has poured out not only intellect, but spirit. To finish a trilogy is to endure the discipline of years, the battle against doubt, and the endless act of creation.

Her gratitude, however, stretches beyond herself. She acknowledges that the journey is not a solitary one. Author, publisher, and reader—all are bound together in this work. The author labors, the publisher risks, the reader commits heart and time. It is a shared endeavor, a covenant of trust. Carson’s thankfulness reflects the humility of one who knows she did not walk alone. Without those who believed in her vision and those who were willing to step into her worlds, her stories would remain only ink upon a page.

This truth is echoed in history. Consider the great Florentine poet Dante Alighieri, who penned The Divine Comedy. He, too, dreamed of a work vast enough to hold eternity itself within verse. But his accomplishment was not his alone—patrons preserved his work, scribes copied it with care, and readers across centuries invested their imaginations in his vision. Dante’s labor became a shared inheritance of humanity, just as Carson’s trilogy becomes a shared treasure of readers and creators alike. Dreams, once brought into being, belong not only to the dreamer, but to the community that embraces them.

Carson’s exhaustion, mingled with joy, carries its own lesson: that true achievement is not effortless. Every great work—be it in art, science, or human endeavor—requires sacrifice. The ancients understood this well, for the hero in myth always completes the quest battered and weary, yet triumphant. The giddiness of Carson’s words is the laughter of one who has carried a heavy burden and finally set it down. Let this be remembered: tiredness is not weakness, but the seal of devotion, the proof that one has given fully of oneself.

And yet, it is her thankfulness that crowns the whole. Without gratitude, even the greatest achievement turns hollow. To give thanks is to recognize that creation is a shared dance, that no one rises alone, and that every reader who turns a page becomes part of the journey. Gratitude transforms labor into blessing, and success into legacy. In thanking her readers, Carson reminds us that art is not a monologue but a dialogue, a gift exchanged between souls.

Thus, the lesson is clear: cherish the dreams of your youth, and do not abandon them at the first trial. Pursue them with endurance, knowing that exhaustion will come but joy will outweigh it. When your labor bears fruit, remember to honor those who walked with you—those who supported, invested, and believed. And above all, be thankful, for thankfulness is the fountain from which more dreams are born and more journeys sustained.

So let these words be carried forward: like Rae Carson, let us dare to dream, let us dare to labor, let us dare to finish, and let us dare to give thanks. For in such a rhythm—the dream, the labor, the completion, the gratitude—lies the song of all who leave behind something greater than themselves, a gift to the world and to the generations yet to come.