How Do You Know if You Are a "Real" Writer?

How do you know? This question has plagued me for a long time, and I saw it recently on a writing web site, so I am not the only one who has asked it. For a long time, I was unpublished and wrote in the “closet.” I was afraid if I admitted to doing it (writing, folks) I would have to face that dreaded question: “Oh, what have you published?” To which, I’d have to say, “Well, nothing… but my mother loves my stuff.” And then go crawl under a rock.

I’m sure there are people out there for whom this would not be a problem, people who have lots of self confidence and don’t care what anyone thinks of them. I tip my hat to you. For the rest of us, what to do? Should we go to the writer’s conference and expose ourselves as wanna-be’s or should we just stay home?

Now that I have a novel published, I have the perspective to return to this perplexing question. How do you know when you are a “real” writer? What is one? Does anyone who picks up a pen or taps on the computer qualify? Do you have to be published? How many times? Does self-publishing count? Does payment in art journal copies qualify or do you have to be paid for it? If you win an award or get an honorable mention, does that jump you to the “writer status?” According to the IRS, a professional is anyone who is paid for their work. My first publication to a magazine netted me $8.48. It was a great feeling to finally reach that milestone, but somehow it didn’t make the question go away.

Is the aspired distinction merely to be found in the eye of the beholder? If I like what you write, does that make you a “writer” in my eyes, but if I don’t care for it, you aren’t? Saying someone is a “good writer” or a “bad writer,” at least slaps the tag on them, but is he/she a “real” writer? If you keep a journal under the bed and scribe in it daily, are you one or not?

Okay, I’ve asked the question, now I’ll share my epiphany. By college, I was quietly writing fiction, but I took a class in poetry because my roommate talked me into it. It turned out to be the best move I could have made. Everyone brought their hearts and souls to class with their poems. And it was brutal. I learned that there was only one rule—Does it work?

Not, does it express what you really want to say? Not, does it use alliteration and rhyme correctly? Only, does it work? You can break rules; you can follow rules; you can cry big crocodile tears onto your paper, but the only question is that one.

So, it doesn’t matter if you are published or not, have won awards or not. It doesn’t matter what you write or how often you write. It doesn’t matter. A writer wants it to work! If it doesn’t work, a writer is willing to produce it, to listen to criticism, to cut, to add, to change, to ask questions, to learn, to rewrite, to stand his/her ground, to start over, to rewrite again—whatever it takes to make it work.

Of course, you can write without being “a writer.” And there is nothing wrong with writing for your own pleasure or self discovery or for your mother. Kudos to you and keep writing! But if you have a passion to tell a story, to paint in words, to reach people, to move people, then you understand the question—Am I a “real writer?” And if you have that passion and are willing to work to make it “work,” then, in my book, you is one!

Teresa

T.K. Thorne

author of Noah's Wife

ForeWord Review's Historical Fiction Book of the Year

www.tkthorne.com

Blogging at www.tkthorne.wordpress.com

Tags: #process/craft

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Comment by Tina L. Hook on March 29, 2011 at 8:31am: This is such a fantastic post I came back to read it again. In the end, focusing on the work will get me farther than wondering whether or not I am worthy of it.

Comment by Shannon Alexander on March 28, 2011 at 2:21pm: I am a writer. A writer writes. So, I write.

An author is a published writer. I'll get there one day.

These are my definitions, and I'm sticking to them!

Comment by Tess Hardwick on March 28, 2011 at 1:41pm: This is such a great post. It is a question I ask myself a lot and can relate to everything you say here. I remember the first time I answered the question, "What do you do?" at a dinner party with a, "I'm a writer." I actually broke out in a sweat right after I said it, as if the writing God might burst from the sky and scold me publicly. At that point I had an award winning play with three productions and a rejected novel to claim. My first novel comes out next month and I still feel like a fraud. But your conclusion that it simply must 'work' is a good one, I think. And that we work to make it work - that should qualify us. Funny too, last week I heard someone describe me to their husband as "You know, the writer, I told you about." That felt good. Regardless, thanks for this post.

Comment by Patti Frankel on March 28, 2011 at 11:15am: Well said. On a blog post called "The Discipline of the Word"I addressed some similar ideas, and came to some similar conclusions! I wrote: "We fall into the trap of thinking that publicity and publication render our work more valuable. I lived in this trap and felt this obligation for years, every time I wrote anything: a novel, a story, an essay, a poem. And because I could not meet it, I also felt like a complete failure, and for some years quit writing anything at all except long serpentine letters to my friends. This made me deeply unhappy and also a little neurotic. (On the bright side, at least I was continuing to hone my craft.)
It took me a long time to escape from that trap and really own the truth that publicity and publication do not make anyone’s work more valuable, least of all mine."

Indeed, we want it to work.

Comment by C. Roberts on March 26, 2011 at 9:02am: This fits me to a "T"! I am working on my second novel which I have now temporarily put aside when a publisher asked me to rewrite a few things on my first novel. Hopefully I'm on my way - now I finally do consider myself an author! I loved reading your article - I thought it was just me and that I had no confidence in myself. Now I know - it's not just me! Thank you!

Comment by Lois Arsenault on March 26, 2011 at 5:28am: Thanks for sharing your insight. You gave me some ideas to consider.

Comment by Kim Le Piane on March 25, 2011 at 4:14pm: Teresa,
I was just having this conversation yesterday with a fellow SheWrites new friend. Why is it hard to claim certain skills, talents or gifts? I write and I love writing and yet I find myself in some discomfort owning that. I draw, and I love drawing, and yet I somehow feel like a fraud claiming to be an artist. Is this because such vocations are not valued in our culture unless you attain great fame, wealth, or both? Do we need validation outside ourselves to be able to honor and value ourselves as members of a certain vocation? I value my work, and still find it challenging to say I am a writer or an artist. It feels inauthentic in some way for me to own these things. Perhaps it is a process? Perhaps I will grow into owning being a writer and an artist. In the meantime, I think I'll go write some more!

Comment by Samantha Sotto Yambao on March 24, 2011 at 10:35pm: Great post! I agree 100%. Being a writer isn't so much what you do, it's what you ARE - hence the drive to make your writing "work." Your stories are an extension of yourself and you won't/cant' stop until they truly are an honest and effective reflection of your ideas :)

Comment by L. A. Howard on March 24, 2011 at 1:33pm: I don't know if "writer" is precisely right for me. I feel more like "storyteller" is more accurate. Even if I couldn't write, I would still have all these stories inside to share with others, and they would come out sooner or later. [I used to tell them to myself and to my niece when I was younger, and didn't start actually typing them out really until college.]

Comment by Lanita Moss on March 23, 2011 at 2:56pm: Thank you. I always hated the question, "What do you do?" Well I do a lot of things, but I've never been more satisfied as when I could say I was a writer. The first time a check showed up in the mail (Five whole dollars), I looked at my husband and said, "I can call myself a writer now." Rather than spend my paychecks, I cash them, in $5 bills and put them in a fruit jar. The jar sits on my desk and when ever I doubt myself, all I need to do is look at my jar.