Don't Call Me "Writer"

I read somewhere that all it takes to become a writer is to write.

I don't think of myself as a writer. Sometimes a whole week passes without me picking up a pen or opening Google Docs.

The image that comes to mind when I think “writer” does not look like me. It looks like any of the thousands of book jacket photos I've seen in my long life of reading: an inscrutable, Mona Lisa smile and a penetrating gaze that screams "deep thinker."

Besides only sporadically actually doing any writing, I’ve never taken a writer’s retreat; my vocabulary isn’t especially rich or extensive; I’m not a voracious reader. In any given month, it’s a toss-up which I do more: stare into space or read. Writing is usually a distant third.

But I’ve wanted to be a writer since I read my first book. As a kid, the whole project — making up stories, writing them down, letting other people read them, drawing pictures to amplify the message — thrilled me. Then my mother took me to the library! Blew my mind (this phrase had not yet been coined but you know what I mean) there were so many books in the world, evidence there were lots and lots of people who were also drawn toward making books.

I write in my head pretty much all day, often editing and revising my thoughts. Honestly. Have you ever been washing dishes or running the vacuum and had to stop to consult a Thesaurus in search of a better word for something you were just thinking? Happens to me all the time.

Most of the time, what keeps me awake at night when I’d rather be sleeping is the “writer at work" inside my head.

I am a storyteller, perhaps natural-born, descended from and raised within a fairly large tribe of storytellers. Now and forever I am unquestionably an introvert but, like my parents and grandparents and about 100 aunts, uncles, and cousins, give me an audience and I will happily tell stories all night, complete with faces and funny voices.

I’ve thought a lot about my irregular writing practice. About how I’m obsessed with writing but don’t actually write very often or very much. Perhaps predictably, I blame my mother. She was overjoyed that her firstborn could read before she entered school and swollen with pride at how many books I read each year in the library’s summer reading program. But she consistently discouraged the idea of being a writer when I grew up, probably out of an overabundance of caution. She grew up in brutal, abject poverty; securing steady 9-to-5 employment mattered more than anything. More than love or friendship or happiness, and definitely more than art or creativity.

But I’ve read scads of stories about people who overcame the effects of problematic childhoods. Maybe therapy would have helped me change that early negative outlook? Or maybe the fire in my belly didn't burn hot enough? Maybe I just didn't want to write badly enough.

Launching this Substack column was part of a strategy to encourage (force?) myself to become a writer. To establish some kind of routine and make writing a practice. But besides the momentum built during a lifetime of writing-not-writing, a new obstacle has arisen: social media.

So many voices! So much self-absorption! So many videos of cats! For this introvert, opening Bluesky is the equivalent of entering a gymnasium full of tipsy strangers. But once I carve out a space where I can tell a story in 300 characters or less, inspire a bunch of Likes and Hearts, and maybe compel a Reply or two, I am happy to be there.

Here on Substack I am intimidated by the hordes of experts writing powerful essays on some aspect of the MAGA/Trump/authoritarian takeover story. Who wants to read my nonpolitical musings when celebrity journalists and pundits are sounding off a couple of times a day? How do I compete for readers' attention?

I've decided I can't compete. But I still find myself compelled to "write." It's an ongoing, unresolved issue for me. For the present I will settle for posting whenever I can work up the nerve, blessing the handful of folks who find and follow me, and slowly building an audience on quieter platforms like Medium.

Thanks for reading.

Photo by Digital Content Writers India on Unsplash