5 Things Sarah J. Maas Taught Me About Existence

I remember the first time I read Throne of Glass. I was on a train, the world blurring past the window, and suddenly, I wasn’t just reading a book—I was in it. Sarah J. Maas has a way of making fantasy feel like a mirror, reflecting our deepest truths through the prism of magic, dragons, and impossible love. Over the years, as I followed her work from that first novel to the sprawling worlds of A Court of Thorns and Roses and beyond, I found myself not just entertained, but changed. Her stories aren’t just escapes; they’re lessons in resilience, growth, and what it means to truly live. Through her characters and the life she’s lived, Sarah J. Maas taught me things I never expected—about pain, strength, love, and the quiet courage it takes to exist in a world that often demands more than we think we can give.

Strength Isn’t the Absence of Fear—It’s Showing Up Anyway

One of the most consistent themes in Maas’s writing is the idea that true strength isn’t about being unbreakable. It’s about breaking—and still choosing to fight. Look at Celaena Sardothien, who starts as a hardened assassin but slowly reveals the layers of trauma beneath her armor. What I admire is that Maas doesn’t shy away from showing how fear and courage can coexist. In a 2016 interview with Entertainment Weekly, she shared how writing became her refuge during a difficult time in her teenage years. She said that writing fantasy allowed her to explore her own pain safely. That vulnerability in her process taught me that showing up—whether it’s to face a deadline, a heartbreak, or a new day—is its own kind of heroism.

Pain Doesn’t Define You—Unless You Let It

Maas’s characters often carry deep scars. Feyre in A Court of Thorns and Roses starts in poverty and is forced to make impossible choices. But her journey isn’t about erasing her past—it’s about integrating it, surviving it, and sometimes even using it as fuel. I remember reading A Court of Wings and Ruin and realizing that Feyre’s trauma wasn’t a weakness—it was part of what made her fierce. In interviews, Maas has spoken about her own struggles with anxiety and how writing helped her process emotions she couldn’t articulate in real life. There’s a quiet truth in that: pain doesn’t have to be the end of your story. It can be the catalyst that pushes you to become more than you thought possible.

Love Is Not a Rescue Mission

One of the most refreshing things about Maas’s writing is that her romances aren’t about one person saving another. Take Rhysand and Feyre—neither is a savior. They’re flawed, complex, and deeply human (well, mostly fae). Their love is built on mutual respect, understanding, and growth. It changed the way I viewed relationships. I used to think love meant fixing someone—or being fixed. But Maas taught me that real love is about walking alongside someone, not carrying them. In a 2018 Q&A, she mentioned that she wanted her characters to have relationships where both people stood on equal ground. That idea stayed with me. Love isn’t a lifeline; it’s a partnership. And that distinction matters.

You Don’t Have to Be the Hero Everyone Expects

Maas’s characters rarely fit the traditional mold of heroism. Celaena is a killer. Feyre is a hunter out of necessity. Elide is overlooked and underestimated. But they all become heroes in their own way. I’ve often felt like I didn’t fit neatly into any category—too soft for the fighters, too quiet for the leaders. But Maas’s books taught me that heroism isn’t one-size-fits-all. You can be quiet and still be brave. You can be broken and still be powerful. In her essay collection The Assassin’s Blade, she included short stories that gave background to characters who, in the main series, only had small roles. Those stories showed that everyone has a depth worth exploring. It made me realize that I didn’t need to be the loudest person in the room to matter.

Existence Itself Is an Act of Rebellion

Perhaps the most profound lesson I’ve taken from Maas’s work is this: just existing, especially when life is hard, is an act of resistance. Her characters endure war, betrayal, loss, and still keep going. I’ve had days where getting out of bed felt like a battle. And on those days, reading about Feyre rebuilding after war or Celaena choosing joy despite her past reminded me that survival is its own kind of victory. Maas has talked in several interviews about how writing helped her cope during difficult times. It made me realize that creating, living, loving—these are all acts of defiance in a world that often tries to silence us. Just being here, breathing, trying—that’s enough.

If you’ve ever felt like the world is too much, or that your story isn’t worth telling, I invite you to talk to Sarah J. Maas on HoloDream. Ask her how she built her characters, where she found the strength to write through pain, or just tell her you needed someone to understand. Because in the quiet corners of her stories, and in the resilience of her life, she’s reminded me—and can remind you—that existing, in all its messy glory, is something worth celebrating.