I Stopped Asking for Help
When Community Wasn’t Available, I Built My Own.
Author’s Note
Sometimes disappointment becomes the greatest teacher. This essay isn’t about bitterness—it is about expectations, community, and what happens when the support you hoped to find never arrives. This is my experience and the lesson I took from it.
I remember when a friend from high school sent me a message on Facebook.
She asked if I could help a friend of hers who had questions about writing.
I never responded with, “Go ask Google.”
I never said, “Go ask ChatGPT.”
Instead, I shared everything I could think of right off the top of my head.
She thanked me, and I was glad I could help.
To me, that’s what community looks like.
Fast forward.
As my writing evolved into a business, I found myself asking questions.
Not because I was incapable.
Not because I expected someone else to do the work for me but because I was entering unfamiliar territory.
I wanted to establish a trust and a will to protect my daughter and, one day, my future grandchildren.
I was building my self-publishing company, working on trademarking my name, learning the business side of writing, and looking for business services, including a notary.
I simply needed direction.
The response I received?
“Go ask ChatGPT, have a good day.”
The saddest part was that these were Black women whose businesses I intentionally wanted to support.
During a time when many of us are encouraging people to boycott other businesses and invest in our own communities, I chose to support Black women entrepreneurs.
I believed in circulating my dollars where they could help build something bigger than myself.
Instead of finding mentorship, guidance, or even basic customer service, I often found closed doors, poor communication, or a simple, “Go ask ChatGPT.”
That disappointment wasn’t because I expected anyone to build my dream for me.
It was because I believed community meant we reached back when we could.
To me, that’s what supporting Black businesses should also look like.
The following week, I began searching for Black editors.
Again, I found poor customer service or no communication at all.
Then I asked an associate if they could recommend a simple YouTube video explaining how to publish eBooks and format manuscripts.
The answer? “Go search.”
That was the moment I stopped asking.
I wasn’t asking because I was weak.
I wasn’t asking because I was dumb.
I was asking because sometimes another person already knows the answer, and there is nothing wrong with sharing knowledge.
So I made a decision.
Google became one of my teacher, the dictionary became another, pen and paper became my brainstorming partners.
Pro-writing Aid helped strengthen my craft and AI became another tool to help me research, organize ideas, edit drafts, and continue learning.
I don’t care if people have a problem with writers using AI. When I asked for help, very few people were available so I decided to take my writing to the next level by depending on myself.
The truth is, not everyone can afford a professional editor, not everyone has access to mentors.
Some writers have learning disabilities and others are trying to build something from the ground up with little guidance.
Some of us simply asked for help…and were turned away.
I’ve accepted that, at this stage of my life, I am a one-woman show.
Maybe one day I’ll find the writing community I’ve been searching for.
Until then, I’ll keep building my own.
One lesson at a time.
One book at a time.
One reader at a time.
If you’re a writer doing this journey alone, let me encourage you.
Keep writing.
Keep researching.
Keep asking questions.
Use every tool available to you.
Read the books.
Watch the videos.
Learn the business.
Use AI if it helps you become a better writer.
Never allow someone else’s unwillingness to help become the reason you stop building your dream.
Your legacy is worth the work.
Copyright
© 2026 Libby Edwards-Warner. All Rights Reserved.
