THE MOMENT YOU REALIZE: I'M A WRITER

I was never one of those souls that entered earth knowing without a doubt, I want to be a writer. I'd written poetry and prose, even counted the many stories that floated in my mind like cumulus clouds in the sky. Yet, like many budding wordsmiths, I suppressed the urge to call myself, writer.
That changed when I found myself in the midst of a divorce. At the time, I was toying with the first draft of a novel I was penning to deal with the death of my grandmother. Grieving and reconciling with the lost of my life partner, I wrote incessantly until I had a concrete, written draft in my hands.
For me, the thought of leaving this world having no legacy to proclaim my existence, ( mind you, I don't have any children.) was a constant fear that I hated to admit. I vowed that at the very least, I'd one day have a paperback of my first novel.
Flash forward two-years later, a lot of dedication and a little bit of money, and I now have a paperback. A solid reminder that I WAS HERE.
When the books arrived at my doorstep, I didn't know how to react. I broke the box open to find books with my name, my vision and my words for all to see. Elation serves no justice for what I was feeling. I had not only become a writer but a novelist.
Now, my advice to the neophyte writer. The one who's marked by dreams of sharing not only a voice but stories that entertain and touch on a deeper level. Keep at it, dear writer. The world needs you. Only you have the ability to change the past, present and future with your words, your legacy. Don't stop no matter how long it takes. WRITE ON. WRITE ON. WRITE ON.
What say you?