I am a writer.
For those that put fingers on keys and ink on paper this statement carries an absurd amount of baggage. For some reason, when those that write for fun or profit get together, there is this question hanging in the air, “Does what I do count?”
In few other professions do the participants doubt the validity of the work they do and therefore a right to claim a contribution. “I’m an engineer.” “I’m a data analyst.” “I’m an educator.” These statements may come with a connotation about the individual, but they are straight forward and easily understood.
We would find it baffling and bizarre if we asked someone what they do and they replied, “Well, you know I kind of practice medicine, but it’s just the one small office and I only see kids, so it’s more of a hobby than anything.” And yet how often do writers hem and haw when asked the same question.
“I’m a stay-at-home mom, but I do a little writing on the side.”
“I have a short story being published soon, but that’s it.”
“I’m tinkering with a few projects but nothing big, so . . . .”
Why is it so hard to own the label? There are a few dozen answers out there, hinged on the emotional variables in each of our lives, but I think one of the biggest is a cultural misconception that being a writer is a gift: one free talent for stringing words and stories together in a pleasing way. And if you can do those things, then you will be successful. If that is true, then, for many of us, it feels like the height of hubris to claim the status of “writer.”
For some clear and witty perspective, let’s look to Maya Angelou:
“Some critics will write, ‘Maya Angelou is a natural writer’—which comes right after being a natural heart surgeon.”
All one must do to see the sweat, grit, work, work, work, study, and training that it takes to be a professional writer is read the other posts on this blog, maybe pick up a book on the writing process, or talk to someone who has been at this thing for years and is only now on the verge of publication. [raises hand]
Perhaps Epictetus said it best, “If you want to be a writer, write.”
So if you are working, sitting at the computer putting those funny squiggles into intelligible thoughts, and seeking to perfect the craft, then you’re it. You are a writer. No equivocations. No maybe, kind of, I was thinking about it. If you put your butt in the chair and you stare down the blank pages. If you hear stories all around you, and then take the step of capturing them for others, then you are a writer.
And in a publishing world where more and more authors are self-publishing and therefore self-defining, how we see and define ourselves to others will be the difference between the royalties we are making and the royalties we want to see. If we want to be professionals, we must describe ourselves as professionals. No one wants to eat gourmet cooking from some that doesn’t describe themselves as a passionate culinary pursuant. We don’t want legal advice from someone who dabbles. And as readers we don’t want to waste our time on something that is by someone who doesn’t really think of themselves as a writer.
“I’m a writer,” is not a statement of political or social subversion. It is not controversial. And if you write things, and then send them out into the world for others to enjoy or not as their tastes dictate, then it is simply a statement of fact. One that shouldn’t get stuck on the tips of our tongues, or brought up as a side-note, icebreaker at parties.
“I’m a writer.” Period.
Author and blogger Anika Arrington’s short story, “Sense and Cyborgs” will appear in Mechanized Masterpieces: a Steampunk Anthology to be released April 30, 2013. Read more of her musings at mommyauthors.blogspot.com and necessarynurture.wordpress.com.
