Are You a Writer?
What makes a person a writer? Innate talent? Publication? Publicity?
I’ve been to a number of writers’ conferences, and it seems that many of the attendees seem to believe that they need all of the above, or at least two out of three, in order to properly call themselves writers. I used to think so myself.
Truth is, it’s much simpler than that.
Teachers teach. Painters paint. Brick layers lay brick. Woodchucks chuck wood. Writers write. This is the one and only distinction that separates a writer from a non-writer, or a would-be writer.
Do you write?
People tell me all the time, “I have the coolest idea for a story.” And they proceed to lay it out (the ones, that is, who aren’t afraid I’ll steal their ideas!) But when I ask them if they have started writing any of that magnificent idea, equivocation raises its ugly head. “Well, I….
….don’t have time. ….haven’t figured out how to start. ….haven’t figured out how the story ends. ….am working on something else right now.” On and on go the reasons why they don’t write.
I understand that. Writing is work. I think most people who say they want to write actually want to have written. Like those dear readers who turn to the last page first to make sure the story has a happy ending, they want to skip to the end. But you can’t get there from here. You have to plant your tail in a chair and put pen to paper, or pinkies to keyboard. I have had a number of students who had wonderful innate talent, but getting them to actually write (and turn in their assignments) was like herding cats. They’d do just about anything — except write.
Just because a person is published doesn’t make him or her a writer. Some of the best selling books out there were not written by the people whose names grace the cover. Doctors, self-help gurus, talking heads, and pols of all stripes crank out books. The bookstores are full of them. But those folks (with very few exceptions) actually write their own books. They, or their publisher, hire ghostwriters. The ghostwriters do the work of writing, but often aren’t even acknowledged anywhere in the book.
As for being known, for having a publicity machine — well, that’s nice, but it has nothing to do with whether you are a writer or not. Publicity is a necessary evil for the sales of books, but the presence of the machine is not a symptom of writerliness. (New word.) Neither is its absence a symptom that writing has not taken place.
Do you write? You’re a writer. Period. Talented or not. Published or not. Recognized or not.
So here’s a challenge. If you’re a writer, accept that and move forward. Take a class. Subscribe to a writers’ magazine. Go to conferences. Learn the craft. Submit your work to contests. Don’t sweat all that other stuff. What have you got to lose? If you love to write, do what you love, and don’t give ground to naysayers — even those dearly beloved naysayers who share your house. And for heaven’s sake, when you’re at the conference, don’t walk around looking desperate because you’ve been told the odds of being accepted by royalty publishers are against you. They are against you. Write anyway!
If you’re a not-yet writer — what are you waiting for?