The Courage to Leave Gaps
Ten years ago, I applied for a degree in Creative Writing.
As part of my application, I wrote an essay called The Courage to Leave Gaps.
At the time, I thought I was writing about uncertainty.
Looking back, I think I was writing about my future self.
The essay explored a simple idea:
Life is full of gaps.
Gaps in our careers.
Gaps in our knowledge.
Gaps in our relationships.
Gaps in our creativity.
Moments when we do not know what comes next.
Most people spend their lives trying to close those gaps as quickly as possible.
I was fascinated by them.
Not because they were comfortable.
But because they seemed necessary.
I argued that every system has gaps. Every plan has uncertainties. Every life contains spaces that cannot immediately be filled.
What I did not realize at the time was that one day I would have to live that idea myself.
The plan that never existed
When I look back at the last few years, there was never a master plan.
I moved to Barcelona without knowing exactly where it would lead.
I started a blog without knowing whether anyone would read it.
I started writing a novel without knowing whether a publisher would ever want it.
I released a song without being a professional musician.
I began posting regularly on LinkedIn without knowing whether anyone would pay attention.
None of these decisions made much sense on paper.
Every single one contained a gap.
A missing piece.
An uncertain outcome.
The possibility of failure.
And yet, every meaningful thing that happened in my life started exactly there.
Inside the gap.
Today, as artificial intelligence changes the way we create, write, and work, these gaps may matter more than ever.
Why visibility is harder than creation
Before all of this, I also studied acting.
One lesson stayed with me long after I left.
The hardest part is rarely creating something.
The hardest part is allowing other people to see it.
Writing a text is private.
Publishing it is public.
Recording a song is private.
Releasing it is public.
Having an idea is private.
Sharing it is public.
The moment your work becomes visible, it can be judged.
Ignored.
Misunderstood.
Rejected.
Or loved for reasons you never expected.
That loss of control can be uncomfortable.
Looking back, I think many of my biggest creative blocks had less to do with a lack of ideas and more to do with a fear of being visible.
Not creating felt safer than being seen.
AI has changed creation
Today, we live in a world where creating has never been easier.
AI can help us write.
Design.
Code.
Research.
Translate.
Brainstorm.
Produce music.
Build websites.
Generate ideas.
The technical barriers have never been lower.
And yet, most people are still stuck.
Not because they do not know how.
But because they hesitate to publish.
To share.
To launch.
To release something before it feels perfect.
The real bottleneck is no longer creation.
It is exposure.
The courage to show imperfect work.
The courage to let other people interpret it.
The courage to lose control.
Ironically, this is exactly what I wrote about ten years ago.
I just did not know it yet.
AI has removed many technical barriers.
It has not removed the emotional ones.
The fear of being judged.
The fear of looking foolish.
The fear that nobody will care.
The hidden cost of perfection
Perfection feels safe.
Publishing feels dangerous.
Perfection happens in private.
Publishing happens in public.
The problem is that perfection rarely creates opportunities.
Publishing does.
Nobody can discover the article you never published.
Nobody can listen to the song you never released.
Nobody can read the book you never finished.
Nobody can engage with the idea you never shared.
Many of the opportunities in my life did not come from my best work.
They came from visible work.
Work that existed.
Work that people could respond to.
Work that was imperfect but real.
What leaving gaps actually means
Today, I define the courage to leave gaps differently than I did ten years ago.
It is not recklessness.
It is not ignoring risks.
It is not pretending uncertainty does not exist.
It is accepting that certainty comes later.
The gap is where learning happens.
The gap is where feedback emerges.
The gap is where unexpected opportunities appear.
The gap is where life changes direction.
Most of the things that matter to me today were invisible when I started.
They only became visible because I moved before having all the answers.
The courage to publish
Maybe that is what the courage to leave gaps means today.
Not leaving things unfinished.
But accepting that nothing meaningful ever feels completely finished.
The article can always be improved.
The website can always be redesigned.
The book can always be rewritten.
The song can always be remastered.
At some point, the only thing left to do is publish.
And trust that the next version of yourself will know more than the current one.
Ten years ago, I wrote an essay about the courage to leave gaps.
Today, I think its modern version is something like this:
Have the courage to publish imperfect things.
Because the gap between who you are and who you might become can only be crossed through action.
And because most opportunities appear only after you become visible.
Meet Alma
Alma is a satirical observer exploring work culture, professional identity, artificial intelligence and belonging in modern working life. Through stories and essays from Barcelona, Alma examines remote work, corporate culture and the search for meaning in an increasingly digital world. Part social satire, part philosophical observer, Alma gives a voice to questions many people experience but rarely articulate.