A writer? Who, me?

I encountered two quotes I really took to heart this week. I like to think the universe takes time to nurture me as much as kick me.

 

“It ain’t what they call you, it’s what you answer to.”  W.C. Fields

“Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.” Molière

 

I don’t know if anyone can relate, but I am very reticent to call myself a writer. It’s the dumbest thing, right? Writer just sounds so professional, carries so much mystique, and invokes a level of ego that I don’t have. Those are my best excuses. Really, it’s because I feel like someone is going to call me out on it. What are they going to call me out on, you ask? Well, do I have any publishing tied to my name? No. Do I have a book ready to be published? No. Do I have a manuscript ready for editing? No.

Is being published what makes a writer a writer? No.

I have problems. Worse than you’re starting to learn. For instance, author is a whole other ball game. We’re not even going to discuss that one.

I remember in my second year of university sitting in my second creative writing class –the huge deal one because I had to compete to get into it, and my previous creative writing teachers told me that a lot of people had to apply a number of times in a row. So every year. I’m so glad I didn’t have to do that because I don’t know that I would have had the nerve to try a second time –regardless, I was semi-terrified. And not just because the prof is –is, because she still has the power to make my heart stop with a sideways look– one of the most intimidating women I have ever come face to face with. She was talking to the class at large, what about I couldn’t tell you, but she called us “a group of writers.”

That’s what I remember. Her calling me a writer in that moment. Before then, and even after, being a writer was a future goal, not a present reality. I recall my eyes kind of bugged out and I thought, “Writers? Right now? These people? Me? Really? Really?”

Yeah, my inferiority complex is pretty awesome. I have an English degree, a creative writing designation on my transcript and a huge creative writing project that took over a year to complete, almost 20 years of writing under my belt, dedication, and projects on their way to completion. Oh, and the backing and support of awesome writers who vary on the legendary scale. I have some chops even though I seem to forget them more often than I care to remember them.

Still, I cringe when I tell people I’m a writer or they call me a writer, I feel like the sword of Damocles is going to go choppy chop. This leads me back to my quotes: I need to make a greater effort towards answering to writer. I can call myself one hesitatingly at this point but somewhere down the line I need to own it. It’s what I am, I need to reconcile it and get over myself.

For me, this makes Moliere’s quote almost more important. 2013 saw me commit to writing in a way I never had before, it saw me jump in head first and start writing for myself again. I’m still growing, I’ll always be growing, hopefully sometime soon my labour will provide tangible fruit I can grasp and use as a shield against that sword I’ve hung over my own head.