Never Met a Writer

“I’ve never met a Writer before",” a man remarked, upon my answer to what I did for work. This statement made me question - now that he had met me, could he really say that he now had? It is in our nature to ask someone what they do for a living when we first meet them, like it will immediately tell us more about them by learning how they spend their working hours. When people ask me what I do, I say I’m a Writer. I like the prestige that comes with the title, as if the person is now imagining me with ink and quill, jotting down manuscripts by candle light, or more modernly, sitting with my Mac laptop in a pristinely white room pulling creative narratives out of thin air. I feel a little pain of guilt every time I use that answer though. I sometimes feel inauthentic about it, even though in any job I were to hold that involved writing, it is the most valuable and marketable skill I possess above someone who is not comfortable with word-slinging. I identify as a Writer, but have I earned that title? This question gnaws at me.

I often think it is because I feel like I haven’t written enough. Yet, what is enough? Who defines it? How does the question of quality and content play into the discussion? Novels, screenplays, poetry, journalistic reports - those are the types of things that the term Writer conjures to me. These days the things I work on more likely go by the term article, blog, piece - not as descriptive, not as creative sounding. I have written poetry, I have ideas for screenplays and novels living in my brain and on my computer, but they aren’t complete. Completeness feels like it is linked to achievement, so I suppose what I am also questioning is if I have really accomplished anything in writing? Maybe, maybe just not what I consider the right things.

Somehow, I feel like because I’m unpublished, because I don’t write every single day, or because I don’t earn an income solely by writing, that I don’t have the right to the title of Writer (also because truly, my understanding of grammar and punctuation is just not where it should be. I still question the semi-colon!). I always feel like a more accurate answer would be another term, that describes more of my daily duties in the work I often do. I use a lot of other skills when I work. I could identify more as a manager of things, events, schedules, people, or something that involves organization. I suppose though, many of my working hours are still spent writing.

Writing this now I wonder - well, why is it that what we do for work has to be our most defining title, and not other areas of life where we may or may not get paid? Why can’t I just say, “Well I get paid to be a Manager, but I am really a Writer at heart.” Why does that have to be an odd answer? Is it pride? Is it that I want people to know I am good enough (there’s that word again) to earn a living as a Writer, as if that quantifies my talent somehow? Talent - another thing to question. How is that validated? Is it only through recognition? If a tree in the woods writes a Booker Prize winning novel, and nobody reads it, is it any good?

A cacophony of questions are coming up now, as I write this. Presently, I am so happy to be here writing the things I want to. That is a huge part of why I love having a blog - because I can choose to write about whatever I want. I feel happy in defining it as a place where all my ideas can live. I like that when people ask me about it, I don’t have a specific theme or topic to give them. It is what it is - Imperfect Words. This doesn’t have anything to do with my income though (not currently, anyways). I do it because it brings me joy. I do, however, find extra joy in writing a piece that many people react to - whether that be a note, a comment, or something else. I like knowing I wrote something that more people could connect with. Maybe that’s what I am looking for on this journey of syntax - connection. I sort of hope that’s what it is, over recognition. I try to imagine what would be more fulfilling to me: standing on stage at the Oscars (why not dream big, eh?) holding the trophy for Best Original Screenplay, or sitting on a stage in a plush armchair being interviewed about my latest acclaimed novel. Let’s be honest, I’d take either (Ha!). However, as much as the glamour of the movie making world has always called to me, I do think I would prefer to rock the world with amazing books. I keep telling myself I have time, that novels are labours of love that can take years. However, if you don’t write them, they will be lost.

What I really want is to tell stories that move people, that are memorable, that you can’t help reading or hearing again and again. Stories that drip with paint or blood or molten gold. Stories that stab and hug and shake you to your core. That stick to you like honey from a comb or smoke from a fire. Stories that you can’t read fast enough, and at the same time you want to stop so you can savour them. That propel you like a train, stop you cold like ice down your spine, flutter your stomach, your eyelashes, your soul. Unforgettable, undefinable stories.

Clearly writing is something that I passionately wish to be a part of my life. So the inauthenticity that comes with stating I am a Writer is countered by an equally authentic knowledge that it is a part of who I am. The words that live inside my brain are constantly trying to get out. When I was young, I remember a constant stream of narration running through my head. I tried to stop it, I thought I was weird. I was grateful when I realized it was a sort of automatic story telling practice, and now I let it run rampant. It takes me over in a way that I love, and feel is so genuinely me. How can that not be a real part of my identity?

Does anyone else muse over their identity in this way? I wonder how these questions apply to other jobs. Like, if you know how to take apart a car and put it back together better, can you call yourself a Mechanic even though no one paid you? If you have the ability to buy and trade stocks to make a profit successfully, can you call yourself a Stock Broker? This may get to the real root of the way our society demands that we define ourselves - money first, passion second. For example, right now, I am not being paid for anything, I am doing the job of Mother (technically the Canadian Government is paying me for the next few months. Go Canada!). Does that mean my main title has to be Mother, or can it still be Writer, if I so choose? What if even though during my time out of what would be counted as the workforce (although you try telling any parent that it is not a damn lot of work), I still identify more as a Writer, than I do as a Mother? Do I have to say “Oh, I’m usually a Writer, but right now I am a Mother.” I shouldn’t have to, that’s for sure. Becoming a Mother doesn’t make me any less of a Writer, they are not mutually exclusive states of existence. Help me change this! Don’t let what someone will pay you for dictate who you want to be, who you know you are. If you sit at a desk all day to earn a paycheck doing tasks you have no passion for, and then go home and paint murals or dance late into the night or solve really complicated puzzles, tell people you are a Painter, a Dancer, a Puzzler. Let us shed the medieval practice of defining ourselves by our occupations and redefine who we are by our own passions. (Level Up: quit the boring day job and pursue your passions!)

I am not actually sure, but through the writing of this piece, I may have convinced myself that I have, in fact, earned the title of Writer. Or I am even less deserving of it than ever! That bit, I don’t want to sound self deprecating. I am not fishing for compliments or consolement, this has genuinely been a curious exercise in the exploration of identity, both personally and publicly. I think I asked more questions than I answered, and if you had been in my head as I looped through them, you would have seen a rush of images and emotions rush past.

Perhaps this questioning of mine is rooted in not that I haven’t accomplished writing anything, but that I haven’t completed anything of considerable length that I am really and truly proud of. I feel like I haven’t put the time in, put the effort in, paid my dues in ink yet. I am realizing that what I want is my title of Writer to be linked to another prestigious title - Author. I have been writing for 20 years, and enjoyed all kinds of writing, exploring genres and dabbling in professional (read: paid) writing, mostly online. Down in my bones there lives stories worth telling, I just need to get them out. I used to think that time was my biggest constraint, but now my time is constrained more than ever (tough to type with one hand while breastfeeding) and I am even more hungry to make opportunities to write. I probably should have napped for the past few hours, but these words were more important.

Needless to say, I hope there is a great deal more to come.