You’re a writer even when you’re not writing
A note to self (and maybe you too)
Sometimes I think the worst thing I did to my writing was to start sharing it on the internet.
I began when I was 12 years old, long before social media and even Blogger. And I can’t knock it entirely — it allowed me to connect with people when I was a lonely kid trying to keep everyone at arm’s length from the disaster area of my family life, kindled the sparks I needed to get me through much of the darkness.
But it also stoked my hunger for approval and validation, which I know now is bottomless. There’s no amount of praise or gold stars that can hold me over. While that didn’t come from writing online, those spaces were the first place I found a somewhat reliable source of attention that was (mostly) detached from abuse and manipulation. It gave me a sense of control where I had none — if I was “good” enough, I could be loved.
I know now:
It’s not about being “good”
Other people can’t make me feel like I’m worthwhile
I can’t actually control whether people like me or not
I’m loved even when my writing isn’t
I’m a writer even when I’m not writing
A lot of the writers I work with and get to know grapple with that label: “writer.” They’ll say they used to be writers, or they want to be writers, or that they like to write but they’re not a “real” writer. When I ask about that — what makes someone a “real” writer? — it usually comes down to something external. They’ll be a real writer when they get a book deal, or share their work at a reading, or get into an MFA program.
I’m of the opinion that we’re real writers even if we don’t land book deals or get MFAs or win awards. I think it’s fine to want these things. We’re human and seeking external validation is in our DNA. I play pretend accepting my dream awards in the mirror, give interviews to the frying pan while I’m cooking breakfast. I have a list in my Notes app titled “Someday” with all those shiny, I’ve-made-it moments and I look it over every now and then to see what matters to me and why.
But I’m a writer even if none of the things on my list are in the cards for me. We’re writers because of those daydreams and future goals, our notebooks and folders and wherever we scribble down the fragments and snippets we’re saving for an unnamed something.
How does that land for you? What’s your physical reaction?
If it’s hard to accept that, you’re not alone. It’s probably the most unifying trait of writers, honestly.
I haven’t been writing lately. I feel like crap about it. No matter how many times I’m confronted with the reality that these silences are part of my process, I’m still frustrated by them. I still expect myself to be or get over this.
That’s the first response, the conditioning. It’s what comes after that matters, because that’s what determines what I do. I try to remind myself that I don’t need to write something new and perfect and world-altering. That I need time and rest and silence. That I’m still a writer, not a fraud.
Does it work?
Well. I’m still here.
Still writing.
Work(ing) in Progress November
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How’s writing feeling for you lately? Share how you navigate the ebbs and flows, what keeps you going when you’re not, or just vent. I always like to hear from you!