Frederick: Do you feel like you can write again?
Emily: No. It’s an editor. I gave my poem to him. And now it’s like he holds my life in his hands. Like I’m the daisy, and he’s the sun, and without the warmth of his approval, I can’t grow.
Frederick: Opinion is a flitting thing. It’s a hideous distraction from the beauty of your craft.
Emily: Okay. Then maybe I shouldn’t try to have an audience at all. Maybe fame is…dangerous. I mean, I gave one poem to one man and now I have writer’s block.
Frederick: The audience is irrelevant. The work itself is the gift, not the praise for it. Understand that and you’ll understand true mastery.
Emily: You’re right. I know you’re right, but how do I do it?
Frederick: It’s simple. Refuse to be the daisy, and start being the sun.
— Dickinson (S2: E4)
Related: Emily Dickinson on fame as a fickle food, and as a bee