This weekend Husband and I had some old friends and some new acquaintances over for drinks. As I was making small talk with a gentleman I had just met, he said, “So, Kristen, Husband tells me that you’re a writer.”
Now, as Husband had informed me after meeting him a few weeks ago, this guy is also a writer. An actual, bona fide writer who gets paid to, you know, write things.
Just as I was getting ready to respond, an old friend who we hadn’t seen in years – an old friend who has published two books and has another on the way – joined our conversation.
“That’s great, Kristen! I didn’t realize you were writing,” he chimed in.
My eloquent reply that pretty much guarantees that my name won’t exactly leap to their minds the next time a freelance opportunity comes up?
“Uh, yeah, well, I mean, sort of. Well, not really. I mean, I’m trying to. Well, kind of. You know. Write. Freelance. Like. Non-fiction? Yeah, well, so, like essays? Kind of? Blogging and, yeah, pitching…query letters? I mean. Sort of. Not really?”
Smooth.
—
Early last month, I wrote about the next Big Thing that I saw on my horizon.
That Big Thing? A career as a writer – an actual, bona fide writer who gets paid to, you know, write things.
Since writing about my concerns that I wouldn’t stick with it if the going got tough – if the Tummy Time got too tiresome – I have taken lots of small and not all that exciting steps toward my goal: I’ve taken a class on freelance writing, I’ve scoured Writer’s Market for publications that solicit the type of essays I want to compose, I’ve sent out query letters. I’ve structured my free time around writing, continuing to mine every conversation and observation for material.
I’ve been doing my tummy time.
And, following the sage advice of Delia Lloyd, I’ve even started to call myself a writer. Well, in my own head at least.
But then, when presented with a situation in which I could talk about myself as a writer and about writing with other writers, I recoiled awkwardly, as though one of them had just pointed out that my skirt was tucked into my stockings.
My reaction made me think of Rebecca’s excellent essay at Diary of a Virgin Novelist in which she wrote about the “mixed-up, convoluted” reasons she wants to call herself a writer. I share many of her reasons and many of her hesitations, one of which I found myself playing out on Saturday: the vulnerability of putting myself out there when I haven’t yet achieved by any traditional measure.
Telling those two guys – those two published writers – about my dream of writing would have felt like telling them about the dream in which I sail off into the sunset with Sawyer from Lost (sorry, Husband) or in which I become the first woman to land a quad jump in the Olympic figure skating event finals, narrowly defeating Kim Yu-Na and bringing home the gold for the good ol’ U.S. of A.
Without the product – the name in print, the beard burn, or the medal – what proof do I have that I’m living the dream?
But if I don’t take myself seriously while working on the product, why should anyone else?
Are you good at self-promotion or do you – like me, apparently – sell yourself short? Is there any hope for my writing career if I am unable to utter a single coherent sentence when asked about it?
Image: Untitled by Kirstenv via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.
Well done, K! My feeling is that it’s sort of like alcoholics anonymous-you need to just keep repeating it over and over aloud until it sinks in. Practice at home in front of the mirror! Good for you for taking the first steps…the class sounds great, btw.
Delia LLoyd
http://www.realdelia.com
Thanks, Delia, for the road map you provided in your post back in December. I have a copy printed out and posted over my desk. A daily affirmation, if you will!
Oh, I so relate! Ask me about my book, go on–on the other hand, please don’t. I can’t bear reliving the last time someone asked about it and a silent pall fell over the whole room while I stammered on and on about my “brilliant” idea. Self promotion is so hard.
And yet, while my kid was writing her entry for the library’s Earth Day essay contest she looked up and said, “Mama, you should write one too. Because you’re a writer. You really are!” Maybe that counts?
I think that a vote of confidence from Small means more than one from any editor or agent. From what I can tell, she’s a rather clever kid. (Maybe I should send her some of my stuff for some edits before I submit my next piece…)
At least you didn’t flat out deny it! Although I am the last person on earth to give anybody motivational advice, I wonder whether writing out an “elevator speech” (as if you are going for a job interview), memorize and practice it will make you more comfortable staking your claim next time.
You are right: you have to believe it yourself. And with so many of us believing in you, that shouldn’t be so hard!
Okay, I’m officially starting to get the warm fuzzies. Thanks for your words of support.
Thanks, too, for this very good, very practical suggestion. Since self-promotion doesn’t come naturally to me (obviously), it would be useful to have a spiel ready to use the next time I need to.
I love this idea actually. Now I’ve just got to write it out, but I can do that. I’m a writer after all.
They asked if you were a write not a public speaker. As long as you can express yourself in the written word (which you do beautifully), then you are a writer. Chatting over drinks doesn’t count.
Thank you, Erica.
Sister-woman… you ARE a writer. An amazing writer. Calling yourself a writer is a good first step! I think some resistance comes from the fact that your writing is blog-based, and we weren’t brought up thinking that that is what a writer is – when we grew up it was Steinbeck and Irving and Austen – THOSE were writers. But times change, and so does the definition of writers – and you are certifiably a writer in today’s definition. While you’re not in a dressing gown, smoking a pipe, acting reclusive – you ARE a writer.
Keep on writing. It’s wonderful.
How do you know, really, that I’m not wearing a dressing gown? Do flannel pants and an old t-shirt of Husband’s qualify as the 21st century equivalent?
xoxo
I hear you Kristen, I really do. It’s something I’m struggling with as well. Taking those little steps towards a bigger dream is a start (I say that because it’s exactly what I’m doing also!). I was telling my husband last night about a few things, and he’s so supportive – and likely to do what your husband did (in fact, i think he’s told people at his work that I write, am a writer, whatever…) and it makes me nervous. Because I know I roll my eyes at a certain type that calls themselves writers – who don’t actually write anything. Not a blog post, not a journal, nothing. And I don’t want people to think I’m that “type” of a writer.
But I do believe in the fact that we have to call ourselves writers in order to be a writer. And as someone recently told me, you are – in every sense of the word, a writer.
Once again, Corinne, we find ourselves in the same place. I can’t wait for the chance to sit down and talk about all of our shared struggles and triumphs in person. Tea time this summer, perhaps?
I have the same problem, my dear.
And your response – well, I’m afraid anything I’d stutter out would make that sound eloquent!
You are a writer. All of us here are. Why is this so hard to say? I mean I have a book coming out in like five minutes and it took a nervewracking trip to speak to a fifth grade classroom for me to realize that I am actually a writer? What is the deal with this?
Important question. You are far far far from alone here as the above comments (and mine) indicate.
Kristen – practice. Tell your children. Tell the grocery store clerk. Prepare a short blurb that says “I am a freelance writer” and tell everyone that asks. As you tell those who are not as intimidating to you, it will become much easier to tell those who will intimidate you.
I can still remember the first time I told someone I was a freelance writer. This man and his wife are both accomplished professionals. He is a college professor and a published author. She is a graphic designer. I felt so good inside that night.
Practice, practice, practice. Absolutely. This is exactly what I need to do.
You are a writer if you write. And it’s not self promotion IF YOU WRITE. Which you do. Yup. I agree with Nicki. Just do it. Practice if you must. But you are a writer. You are you are you are. Don’t back pedal. Don’t hem and haw. Next time, just say it. You will feel GREAT. (And, hey, it’s TRUE!) This message brought to you by the Jen who has had too much coffee.
Can I get a cup of whatever blend you’re drinking this morning?
I won’t say anything the lovely people above have not. I will repeat, however (perhaps for my own sake as much/more as for your own): you are a writer. you are a writer. you are a writer. you are a writer. you are a writer.
“When a writer talks about [her] work, [s]he’s talking about a love affair.” Alfred Kazin
I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer.
Thank you, Ronna. That feels good.
And thank you for sharing that quote from Alfred Kazin. It makes me wonder: because I do feel passionate about writing, in a way that really is like a love affair, perhaps I don’t want to air it out for outsiders to see and to criticize. I want to hold it close, nurture it, just as I would a new love.
As always, Ronna, you give me much to think about.
I think in our heads we know we are writers. BUT we need other people to tell us we are writers. Those people must be independent and willing to reject us. They can not be people who share our DNA or have seen us naked. If the person who doesnt know us calls us a writer — by buying some of our work or publishing one of our pieces – then we feel we are legitimate.
Interestingly, if I said you are a great writer (which you are), you would be flattered and say thank you. And you would probably believe me. But if I just, you ARE a writer. You would still have doubts because in your mind you havent checked off the list you feel is necessary to claim the professional title.
So dont be a writer — just be a great writer.
This is a fascinating point, Emily, and one that is totally valid for me. Why is it that an adjective is easier to accept than a noun?
Okay, I read that first passage and just cringed. WITH you, not at you. I have done the Self-Disparaging Fumble many a time. And if *I* don’t believe I’m a writer, how will anybody else?
Damn, I struggle with this.
And I’d like to chime in with the crowd above and say that you write beautiful things. Thoughtful things. Real things.
Thank you, friend. I can’t wait to see you this summer so we can raise a glass to the Self-Disparaging Fumble!
I so understand how you feel. I told Rebecca I have a post about this in my drafts. However, YOU are very good. You qualify to call yourself a writer. I always love reading your thoughts, the way you so eloquently put those words on paper.
Thank you, SuziCate.
Self promotion is so hard, we are raised as women to be humble and that can be contradicting to self promoting. You are a writer even if no one ever read a word you wrote.
I am horrible at self promotion, and end up selling myself short…I’m not sure how to conquer this?
Thank you, Tara, for introducing this idea. In reading these comments, I have been wondering about the ways in which gender expectations come into play here. I’m hoping that one of my handful of male readers will weigh in on this!
You are a writer who I LOVE to read. So yes, absolutely. You are a writer. And believe it or not, you answered the other “writer’s” question much more eloquently than I would have. I would have been struck dumb and probably just stood there with mouth agape.
Thank you, Jane.
I think ALL of us who write can relate. I called myself a writer in my head for so many years, but it wasn’t until I published under my own name, in print, and was paid for it, that I felt legitimate saying it aloud.
I had just turned fifty years old when that happened. It is a hard life, if you have to support yourself doing it. Don’t wait.
Say it. Own it. But of course we all understand. There is a hierarchy of respect for writers as well. Print over internet. Certain types of print publications over others. Fiction over nonfiction. And I understand that – but it’s also absurd. Writing is writing. Writing skill is involved in everything you see anywhere; I’ve been a marketing writer, a course writer, a technical writer, a web content writer, a copywriter – yes – right down to those taglines you see on giant web sites for companies, or ad copy.
It requires craft, time, determination, imagination, a host of other communication skills when you’re translating from Source A into language for Audiences B, C, and D – and all to serve a specified objective. And it’s poorly remunerated.
As for fiction or non-fiction, in a way, the internet has made new venues and avenues available. It’s also made it much more difficult for those of us who wish to make a living by our “virtual pens.”
Own it anyway, Kristen. If it’s what you must do, do it.
I really appreciate this post of yours. I’d probably react the same way as you did at that get-together.
I think I said “it” a couple of weeks ago–I wrote “writer” in the About Me section of my blog. Cause I’m, uh, writing. On a blog. So that means I can call myself that, right? (My secret theory? People who are good writers are actually more afraid of calling themselves writers then people who are bad writers. But I haven’t tested that out so much.) I’ve always wanted to write. Always. And having a blog has made me so happy because at least I know someone is reading, so my thoughts aren’t for naught. My problem is that I am afraid–yes, afraid–to put myself out there and work hard at something only to be rejected. I fear I will get my feelings hurt and then I won’t try again. So I’ve kept myself safe, holding onto pieces, delaying the editing process so I don’t actually have to experience rejection.
When I recover more from this postpartum period of my life, and I have more motivation, I am going to do what you’re doing. I’m going to devote myself to writing and believe in myself. It really comes down to believing in yourself, doesn’t it? Having a blog has made me believe in myself a little more.
Hey, whatever works, right?
Two critical ideas here, Jana: fear of rejection and self-belief. I have the former in spades and the latter only intermittently.
And the danger, in a way, of putting these thoughts out here to all of you who are so supportive is that I’m writing, but without the fear of rejection. And that’s the difference between writing for this audience and writing for a different one – but that’s where the self-belief comes in, I guess: to be able to say, “Here’s what I have to say. I think it’s true. I hope you do, too, but if you don’t, that’s okay.”
You need an elevator pitch! Something you can write and memorize, then share with others when they ask about your work. Include why you write, what you write, what your goal is; keep it short so that you could share it with a friend/editor/agent on the ride up to her office (hence the name).
Easier said than done, I know. But it will help and you’ll feel more prepared next time someone asks you about your work. It helps me, anyway. I hate self-promotion and always like to think my work speaks for itself so I don’t have to. Wishful thinking.
Darren Rowse talked about the “elevator pitch” idea in a post on ProBlogger and his suggestions helped me define what my blog is about. And you’re right: now I need to apply this same formula to my writing career.
So grateful for all the support here today – both practical and existential!
Such a great post, and I think we all feel this way! (And, I’m sorry, but your response made me chuckle. I’ve TOTALLY been there.) Outisde of the blog world, hardly any of my aquaintances know I write.
I’m the same way! Now that I’m trying to find a way to make the transition from blog-writer to writer-in-general, I have to find a way to start cluing people in on this part of my life that is so important to me.
I’m excited for you and your next BIG THING, Kristen. We love your writing – your blog is one of the first I visit every morning. I’m optimistic the right opportunity will come through for you.
Of course, I’ll tell you to claim the title of “WRITER” for yourself. But I would have done the same as you in a social situation – danced around the issue, downplayed my talent.
And remember, sometimes connections and networking makes all the difference in getting a job. You never know what might come together magically!
Thanks for your kind words, Eva. As someone who once landed a teaching job through knowing “somebody who knew somebody,” I know the importance of connections – all the more reason I need to get my act together so that I can start presenting myself as a person worthy of connection!
I have an idea about what it is you are referring to; but here is what it feels like for me. “I am a ………” is such a scary phrase because it gives a title, a label, or an identity that we are not comfortable with yet , right? I seems so definite and there is no retracting it when it comes out. For me it is two things: I am a nurse practitioner. Question: where do you work? I dont, I have 3 kids and stay at home. Now I feel like a liar. Am I really a nurse anymore?
I am a runner.
It took me a marathon and a triathalon before I could say that.
Kierkegaard said , “Once you label me, you negate me”.
I suppose we all want to be valued so once you put a label on it, it is no longer a goal but something more tangible. And maybe the idea it being intangible drives us to do it. So if not calling yourself a writer keeps you going, not putting a label on yourself motivates you, then keep on not calling yourself one. Because I will keep reading you and probably liking you more for not putting that negating label on it.
Joely, you always know the perfect quote for every occasion! I love what you and Kierkegaard have to say about labels.
Your comment also makes me think about the fact that I often refer to myself as a teacher even though I have been at home with my sons for the past 2 1/2 years. I wonder if our status (or lack thereof) as “stay-at-home moms” makes this question somehow trickier and weightier.
You’re a beautiful writer. And though we don’t pay you to write, we’re grateful for the daily gifts you give this community of writers.
And I am grateful to you, Belinda, for your generous words here and in every post at The Halfway Point.
I can’t say anything that hasn’t already been said… you are DEFINITELY a writer. Just because someone doesn’t run marathons doesn’t mean they can’t call themselves a runner right? And just because someone doesn’t wear a tall white hat in a restaurant doesn’t mean they aren’t a “cook”, right? You write…. therefore, you are a writer.
I am a novelist but I bet that you have never heard nor read a single book I have written. I am a song writer, stand up comedian, archeologist and a damn fine story teller.
It isn’t about notoriety although sometimes it feels like it should be. You don’t have to visit the sun to know that it is hot.
I wouldn’t worry about stumbling over words because as others have said it takes practice and that is ok.
That moment and posts like this are nothing more than part of the foreword you’ll write in one of your books. It is part of the story that you will tell about how you first got started.
I appreciate this perspective, Jack, and the positive spin: I hereby embrace these moments as the beginning of the story that I’m just starting to tell. Thanks.
Eww…I hate those conversations (not that I’m ever rubbing elbows with real, actual, published writers, but still…). I am a total closet writer, to the extent that a co-worker emailed to ask for my autograph because she’d heard from another co-worker who heard from my husband, who was working on her house, that I had an essay accepted to a magazine. I’m not sure what I expect when people find out I write or–gasp–read something I wrote; probably that they’ll all get together and snigger at me behind my back. By the way I’m very impressed by your writing plan. Good luck!
Kristen, I think any step towards goal is a step in the right direction. Sometimes, you have to fake it until you make it.
For the record, you ARE an amazing writer. ANd everything you are doing is moving you to the goal you have set for yourself.
If you were passive, not getting your feet wet, and just SAYING you are a writer, you would not be moving any closer to your dream.
It all begins with baby steps…None of us walked out of our mother’s wombs…
Lovely post!
Thank you, Maria: I love all of these walking metaphors!
I think being a “blogging” writer is not yet fully respected. It’s a new forum, there’s no editor, usually no payment and of course, all we have to do is hit “publish” to have our words appear.
Clearly you have a large readership and cheering squad; sounds like you’re a writer!
Rachel
Thanks, Rachel, for your comment. You’ve got me me thinking about the whole idea of payment and the concept of the “value” of work. As a mother, I am used to doing my “job” for free so I hadn’t ascribed that much importance to being paid to write. But, in our culture at least, there is an absolute connection between making money and professional status.
First of all, Kristen, I’m happy you took that Freelancing class (was it with Gotham?). If so, I LOVED that class. There was so much great information in it!
I think one of the hardest things about declaring ourselves writers is that instantly everyone wants to know what we’ve written. Have we published any books? I try to have a ready list in my head – my most prestigious work – so that I’ll be ready for that question since it always comes. What’s funny is that what would be considered my least prestigious, the blog, is actually some of the most important work I’ve done.
Kristen, I related with EVERY SINGLE THING you say here. I’ve been going through a similar identity struggle the past six months. I feel a lot of shame calling myself a “writer” when I haven’t produced, as you said, any of the traditional measures of actually BEING a writer. It’s a long journey.
Good for you, cracking open Writer’s Market! My copy is languishing on the bookshelf. And it’s many years outdated but I’m too afraid to do the math on exactly how many.
I try to embrace the idea that writer = process of shaping my writing career and identity. So if someone asks me if I’m a writer, I can say yes and silently remind myself that the other person’s likely static idea of writer-defined-by-job-title-and/or-publications isn’t my own.
Ooh, I like your definition of writer. I just might have to borrow it and incorporate it into my own. Thanks!
Kristen my friend: YOU ARE A WRITER. A very eloquent and talented one. And I am very picky!
But I know, convincing yourself is so much harder. It took me years. Keep practicing; it’ll come…
Thank you, Maureen. Practice makes perfect, right?
“If you hear a voice within you saying ‘I am not a painter,’ then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” -Vincent Van Gogh, taped to the mirror at my son’s art-based preschool.
I think there’s a romantic notion around the label ‘writer’ and that’s what makes it somewhat awkward to cop to unless we can back it up. It’s like saying ‘actress’ when really you’re going to auditions and paying rent by waiting tables. There’s the fear that someone will ask you to prove it and then tell you – ‘No you’re not.’
The comment about the adjective versus the noun is interesting. I’ve been called a “wonderful writer” since I was a little girl by teachers, parents, friends, whatever. And I’d share that I love to write. But it wasn’t until I was hired to write, for pay with a job title and a desk, that I called myself A Writer. Interesting for me to think about why that was.
But now I’m thinking about everything else. I play piano, but don’t call myself a pianist. I do call myself a paddler even though I don’t have any certifications or even bad ass skills in a kayak. And the idea of labeling yourself from the profession for which you no longer work is fascinating. My mother in law hasn’t taught school for thirty years, but when asked what she does, refers to herself as a former schoolteacher. Even though currently she is a docent at the art museum, directs the highschool musicals, and plays piano for her church. But those are all unpaid gigs, and I wonder if she feels the work she did for pay trumps all of it? I don’t know.
Oh, funny story before I end this rambling novel of a comment. I’m a skiier, and we lived in Jackson, WY for a while years ago. I was talking at a group dinner one night with the guy next to me, shooting the shit about skiing. I discovered later that he was Tommy Mo, Olympic downhill skiier. I felt like such an ass talking as if we were peers. Anyway, this writing conversation reminded me of that because there *is* a scale and comparisons to be made, and inferiority sneaks in. Sure, there are differences in skills and accomplishments. But if there’s room for both me and Tommy Mo under the ‘skiier’ label, anyone who writes for love, passion, or money can call themselves a writer.
Best of luck pursuing your freelance career! It’s a hard time to break in with the economy so bad, but don’t be discouraged. It will get better again!
Thank you, Elizabeth, for this delicious comment, so full of meaty food for thought.
Good topic, and that must have been frustrating for you.
I am not good at self promotion and it requires practice for me to be presentable at it. There have been times when I have bombed at an opportunity, but I try to treat my failures as part of the learning process so that I am motivated to do better the next time the unexpected happens.
Thanks for offering this perspective, Slamdunk. The big lesson I’ve learned from this discussion is that this relatively innocuous encounter with friends can serve as the inspiration to create an “elevator pitch” so that I’m prepared the next time I have the chance to sell myself.
Wow. After reading all these comments I don’t think I have much to add except that I think you are a fantastic writer! It’s all about the journey, right? A writer doesn’t wake up one day and say “Hey! I think I’ll be a writer today!!” A writer writes. And you? Write. Very well, I might add.
Thank you, my dear friend.
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You took the words, fear, hesitation, insecurity, and apprehension right out of me with this post. I share your struggle, although I still can’t freely admit to anyone, even myself, that I want to be a writer. I see the power and beauty of the written language through books, articles and blogs every day and with each, I think, why can’t I write like that?
I know we are our own worst critic, and I will always be mired in self-doubt, and often, self-flagellation for not “measuring up”. My fear of failure seems so tangible I see it in my shadows. Ironically, I also know that if I at least try, I may face a chance of failure, but if I don’t try at all, I fail completely.
So here I am. My blog is my baby step, although I have “miles to go before I sleep”. But here is also where I discovered the blogsphere and all the writers out there whose passion and craft inspire me. Yours being one of them.
I know I’m a little late in chiming in, but I’m not saying what others haven’t already before me: You are a writer. A gifted one at that. You are blessed with such an amazing skill, so please take that with you and run. No, fly.
Thank you, JT. Your words mean so much to me. I hope that we can support each other as we walk this writerly path together.
One thing I have learned is that if you keep telling yourself something (even if it’s in your head) it’s WILL eventually penetrate your being and surface, making a meaningful difference to your everyday life. Keep telling yourself that you are a writer because you ARE!
You write beautifully! I love your posts! You speak to me with your words and that’s all that matters… getting your message across!
Thank you, Tracy, for this reminder of the power of positive thinking and for your kind words.
Writers write and you are a writer. I know this for without your writing I wouldn’t know who you are or be here commenting.
Others will encourage, and they are right to do so (I too can’t help it—as you have talent), however I want to give voice to the darker side. I’ve long struggled with fear of success and no one can talk me out of it. I have no stomach for true self-promotion, but every passion for true discourse. I have tried to sell out, and no one has bought. I have had Hollywood producers tell me I should move to Europe, because they make films about real things and ideas over there. I have had European producers tell me that I’m brave to quote Jung trying to sell a dark story (which ultimately they would not make)… and after eighteen unproduced screen plays (many very nearly produced, but how much does that really count for) and an as-yet unpublished book… I can at least be clear that I’m a writer (which took me a long time to own, so I relate to your question).
Perhaps the hardest thing of all is dealing with the fact that upon being published (based on observation, not experience) the really important things do not change.
And then, continuing further into the darkness, there are so many of my most admired writers from Bettelheim to Durrell who, after all the success a writer or thinker could hope for, go and off themselves. This does little to assuage fears that success will not shush the howlings of the beast.
And then there’s Dostoevsky who would take his earnings and deliberately gamble them away so as to be in the only mind-set from which he could work—broke.
In my view, we write because we must, we write to heal ourselves, we write because we love and want to be loved and understood.
You have a true voice, and you’re brave… as for how the world receives your work, my hunch is that it will receive it well, but the zeitgeist and the trickster decide. I find comfort in the wisdom of Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” that distills down to the importance of making our offerings and, if like Cain’s they are not received, we must not go destructive but rather simply make another offering.
Maybe our blogs, and our comments are our offerings (at least in part), maybe they’re sketches for larger works, maybe they’re laboratories to refine our thinking and maybe they allow us to contribute and get back connection by way of our writerly leanings.
So, write away, Kristen… you already have a lot of us rooting for you and sincerely interested in what you have to say.
Namaste
Thank you, Bruce, for seeing me and for honoring the darker side. For sharing your own experience. And for reminding me that publication and even notoriety are no guarantees of illuminating those dark spaces.
I think that I will dust off East of Eden and revisit Cain’s journey, to be reminded by a master “the importance of making our offerings and, if like Cain’s they are not received, we must not go destructive but rather simply make another offering.”
Yep, I’m “out of the writing closet” with many friends and family. It feels a little bit uncomfortable at times, but I’m getting used to it. Apart from that, writing is a song, therapy, and most often a delight. Much better than “Cats.”
I had missed this post and then came upon it while looking for your Digital Diet post….as inspiration for my post! First off…Sawyer? Sooooo one of the main reasons I watch that show. Secondly, I congratulate you. You’ve gone further than I have on this writing thing. I bought the Writer’s Market book…I’ve highlighted stuff…I’ve talked about my goal in getting published. But then, that’s all. I’ve got my blog and I can barely keep up with that, so I don’t know….this writing thing is probably my most sensitive subject. And I can beat you on the whole not being able to call yourself a writer thing…I’ve actually had 9 instructional books published (you know…boring teacher books), and I STILL can’t call myself a real writer.
I’m starting to think that we need to get some sort of virtual writers’ group going. (Uh-oh, here I go with another one of my big ideas: first my book club idea, and now this…) It sounds like many of us could use help to stay motivated and stay positive.
I find it really interesting that, even though you’ve achieved the brass ring many of us shoot for (i.e. publication), you still don’t use the “w” word to refer to yourself. What would it take, do you think?
I loved this post! I’ve always had a hard time calling myself a writer…it seems like such an ambiguous and arbitrary term, similar to “artist.” (I guess as opposed to something like, “I am an accountant or a mathematician” which is somehow more tangible, easier to stratify.) It is especially difficult because my social group is sort of made up of aspiring writers and professors of writing. Once my anthropology professor in college told me a story: She was in her thesis year of graduate school at a party with her professor. He introduced her as an “aspiring anthropologist” even though she had spent two years in another country, had published her work from her stay, and was about to graduate. He told her later that she would not be an anthropologist until she had a PhD.
I don’t think it works the same for writers…if we publish or we get famous or we make money or we simply want to call ourselves a writer we are, suddenly, writers. There is no before and after line. But I don’t think that makes it any less true, because once I’ve dedicated my time and myself to something, and I do it every day, I’m fine with defining myself by that. Writer, mother, lactivist, whatever. It’s just a label. It’s what you write that really matters.
Thanks so much for taking the time to comment, Milksphere!
Two parts of your comment really struck me: first is your point about the before and after line. You’re absolutely right, of course, and I suppose we can all just define the point at which we become writers for ourselves. (And maybe all humans with the ability to write are writers: no more and no less.)
I also appreciated your reminder about labels: “It’s what you write that really matters.”