A conversation with a friend has me thinking about how I still, despite everything, don’t consider myself a capital-W Writer, just a lowercase-W writer.
I wonder what it would take.
I wasn’t a Writer when I wrote poems and short stories just for fun.
I wasn’t a Writer when they got published in my high school literary magazine.
I wasn’t a Writer when I became that magazine’s editor.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started writing for a small local newspaper at age 17.
I wasn’t a Writer when I got some pieces published in some small national magazines at age 18.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started a blog.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started studying journalism, and was expected to go out into the world and report like a professional.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started getting introduced to people as one.
I wasn’t a Writer when I wrote a weekly column for my campus newspaper.
I wasn’t a Writer when people started telling me that reading my writing had made all the difference.
I wasn’t a Writer when I got published on websites much better-known than mine.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started getting paid just to blog.
I wasn’t a Writer when I started speaking at conferences because of that blog.
I wasn’t a Writer even when I put it on my business card to hand out at those conferences.
I wasn’t a Writer when people started telling me that I should write a book.
I wasn’t a Writer when I knew that writing is the only thing that has been with me since early childhood, that will be with me forever, that keeps me going when nothing else feels good anymore.
I wonder sometimes what it’ll take. It seems so easy to answer that question now: well, it would take getting published in a major online outlet like Slate or Jezebel. It would take writing a book and self-publishing it. Or it would take writing a book and legit-publishing it. Or it would take getting published in a major print publication. Or it would take getting invited onto a show. Or it would take writing a bestseller. Or it would take making enough money through writing to quit my real job. Or…
I don’t even want all that stuff, because I probably couldn’t handle it. But I do wonder when I get to be a Writer and not just a writer.
