When Did I Finally Decide to Call Myself a Writer

Having a Flashback – The Day I Finally Decided to Call Myself a Writer

When I first began writing, in my mind, I pictured a writer as a well-known person of literary distinction, one whose reputation alone made people line up outside bookstores waiting for the opportunity to not just buy THE BOOK of the year, a projected multi-million-dollar best seller, but for the chance to spend a mere few seconds with the author while they signed the book in bold script.

A writer would also as a matter of course undergo a series of predictable steps to achieve success in the field: write a novel, sign with a literary agent, sell the project to a big publisher for a whopping advance, and from there watch the royalties fill the bank account.

Alas, my perceptions were inaccurate. Most writers write a lot but don’t see this kind of success or follow these exact steps to get to the top.

This variability then begs the question: if readers aren’t lining up around the block to buy your book, you don’t have a literary agent, or you never see a six-figure advance from a publisher, or even publish at all, are you still a writer?

Because I have taken a different path and my reputation is somewhat more … intimate to a small swath of readers, I’ve asked myself this question a lot, particularly when first starting out. The question caused me a lot of consternation because while I knew in my heart I was a writer, I wasn’t seeing the effects of it as I’d imagined I should.

I recently read an article by Jenna Kalinsky, the owner of the writer’s center One Lit Place https://onelitplace.com, entitled, “When Is It Time to Call Yourself a Writer?” https://onelitplace.com/when-is-it-time-to-call-yourself-a-writer/ In it, she explains what the criteria are for one to be a writer and at what point in your journey you should call yourself one. The criteria are:

• You write regularly
• You honor the ideas that burn in your brain by putting them down on the page
• You do the above with intention and discipline until you feel the practice is an embodied one, part of your daily life and identity

When I first started writing, I did it because I wanted to but without knowing much about craft, practice, or the larger industry. All I knew was I loved telling stories and creating exciting scenarios for my characters.

I didn’t think any of the stories were worth sharing though and felt nervous about telling people that I was a writer. It felt too audacious to say “I am a writer,” because to my ears, it implied I was deserving of sharing the stage with the greats of the field: Stephen King, J K Rowling, Margaret Atwood, authors who have both made abundant contributions to the field and paved the way for thousands of other writers to come.

The mere mention of those legends made room for my self-doubt to set in. How dare I consider myself in the same league as them? They sell books by the millions. They headline newspapers and are spotted on red carpets. They are legitimate because they have battled through the art and craft and business of writing and won, again and again.

For me, even after several years of writing and then publishing, I still have’t reached the kind of status where I am known to a lot of people for my writing. But at the same time, I write constantly and with intention. I’ve learned a great deal. And I have much more I will achieve. I meet the criteria. So, am I a writer after all?

What Makes You a Writer?

In her blog, Jenna captures a quote that makes me chuckle:

“I’ve killed, ergo I’m a killer. I don’t even know what ergo means, but it sounded right.”

Jessica Jones (from the Marvel TV show Jessica Jones)

On most days, I write. It is a regular practice for me, one that is part of my identity. I usually sit down and to varying degrees get the work done (perhaps with some Facebook scrolling as well).

But on other days, the words don’t come. Sometimes they’re trapped deep inside the vault of my brain. Or the brilliant scenarios that arose during the night (ironically the most fertile time) fade by morning. That’s when my old arch enemy, doubt, knocks at my brain, and I question whether I am fit enough for the job.

A real writer, I reason, would simply go to work and churn out their thousand words a day with no problem. When I get stuck, that’s when my confidence slips down a notch or two and my inner voice shouts at me, “Why would anyone actually want to read this drivel?”

Still, I slog on.

I am now working on novel number five. It is a sci-fi thriller that has been dragging for nearly a year and still only two-thirds complete. There are parts of me that think a “real” writer would have churned out at least three novels in the same amount of time. After all, Stephen King, Louise Penny, or Joyce Carol Oates publish at least a novel each year. And look at Agatha Christie; she wrote 80 novels in her lifetime. Now that’s a writer!

All that said, at the end of the day, despite the expectations I level onto myself (many of which are lofty or unrealistic- as if Louise Penny doesn’t have a bad writing day now and again!), I write ergo I am a writer.

When I think about that quote, I recognize that by the sheer act of writing day in and out, I am part of this group of literary professionals. It is thrilling to know that from all their years of working and striving to get where they are, they’ve achieved greatness. Their success motivates me to do my best work.

It also makes me aware that there is room for us all. All writers go through trials and paying our dues. But the work is the thing; it’s how we earn our entry to this exclusive club. True, the competition is fierce. There are thousands and thousands of writers who are not household names competing for readers’ attention.

So as we continue to write, we need to aim as high as we can in order to produce great work. A line-up around the block to have me sign copies of my book would be nice. But when one person comes to me and tells me they like my work, that is its own reward. Success is relative, I’ve learned.

Jessica Jones is right. Despite the doubt, the self-criticism, and the high expectations of what a writer is supposed to be, I carry on. And, who knows, I may yet realize my dream and become a writer on those lofty terms. Or not. Either way, I am Marianne Scott, mystery/sci-fi/thriller writer and published author of four novels. I am a writer.