I love to write, but does that make me a writer? I love to sew, but does that make me a seamstress? I love to paint, but does that make me a painter? If I Do paint, does that mean I am an artist? What makes a person a writer and not just someone who loves to write, an artist and not just someone who loves to paint, a photographer and not just someone who likes to take pictures? Is it is in the quality of the products? Or is it in the passion, the urge? Can a title just be claimed? An identity just taken on?
How do you move from doing to becoming? How do you become what you do? Or are you already in act and term what you do?
I am trying to think of a way to word this as a single question, but it is not coming out right. So I am going to do what I do best and rant it out. Write it out. Which is in part why I think that I am A Writer. Because I am not satisfied until I have it out right. Until it takes on a feel of its own. There is a piece I have been trying to finish for weeks now. It sits in drafts waiting for me to find the right final sentence. I Could just post it now, the point is there. But it isn’t finished, isn’t right, doesn’t feel that way to me. So I will leave it until I am unblocked and the right words come. That is what I was thinking when it came to me that I Am A Writer. I may not be published, I maybe only have a handful of readers, who are really just loyal friends. I may be silly and I may blather and take too many words to get the point across. I clearly am not that good at selling myself. Somewhere in here is an image put in my special way. And I think I do it well enough to share out with you. But mostly, I write because I Must. Obviously, I like to talk. My report cards in elementary school always said I would do a great job if I could stop talking and focus more. My first journal was a flood gate opening.
I have never hesitated to think of myself as a writer. Maybe because I feel confident about the process. Because it is natural for me. I am not claiming to be brilliant, but I do kinda think I’m good at it. Ok, not when I am on the spot. Then I regress. Now ask me if I believe I am an Artist. Ummm, Noooo. Is that because I was told as a child that I was the writer and my brother the artist? Or because that sentence was followed by the warning that I should stop trying to steal my brother’s thunder by drawing flowers? Ok so there are some unresolved issues going on there. But it is the point, in being discouraged, did I learn that I couldn’t claim that title? What gives someone the right to determine that they are an artist? Is it the product? I balk at the term. I am Creative. I like to Create. But I am no Artist. Why is that? Because I have an innate respect for true artists? And don’t put myself in the same class as them? Because I wouldn’t dare try to make a living off of anything I create with paint? Although ask around, I sure do like to share about what I have Created. So am I just crafty then? Do I need to identify in this way? I thought I wasn’t big on labels? Maybe I want the right to claim this one because it is positive? But I don’t feel as though I have the right to, maybe I don’t feel like it is authentic? Or because it is not something I take as seriously or am as drawn to as writing? If it is just a hobby or a past time, perhaps it is not an identity.
What does it matter really? Maybe I am just inadvertantly outing myself as someone who believes she Is a Writer. Ok, between you and me this is all just starting to sound like blather. But I was compelled to blather it out. So here it is. Hi, my name is Shhhhhhh and I am a Writer.