Blogger: Rachelle Gardner
Ah, the age-old dilemma: I write, but I’m not published. Can I call myself a writer? I’m a blogger… am I a writer? I’ve submitted projects to agents and publishers, with no bites yet. Can I claim I’m a “real writer”?
I’ve seen numerous answers to these questions. Some are simplistic: Do you write? Then you’re a writer. Others are more complex. I’ve been thinking about the question quite a bit, and the answer came to me last week while on a hike with a friend. She’s a professional counselor, writes on her blog, and occasionally submits articles to publications. Yet she was struggling with whether to call herself a writer. As we talked it through, I was able to crystallize my thoughts. I told her:
When you have allowed someone to edit your work, and you’ve made changes that improve the work, I believe you can legitimately call yourself a writer.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Anybody can write a first draft and call it good. But when you’ve submitted your words to someone else’s editing pen, and considered their suggestions, and thoughtfully gone back through and made it the best it can be, you’re doing the real work of a writer. You’ve gone through the crucible of “rewriting,” which many authors believe is where the real writing happens.
There’s plenty of room for disagreement, but I think this is a prerequisite that is both necessary and sufficient for calling yourself a writer.
In case a single criteria is not enough for you, I thought of a couple more we could add. See how these strike you:
- Writing is a regular part of your life. You crank out words daily, weekly or monthly.
- Somebody, somewhere, has said “yes” to your writing and agreed to feature it in a public space, to be read by others. Somewhere other than your own blog or website. (Paid or not.) -OR- You have self-published and people are paying actual money for your work.
So what do you think? Do you agree/disagree with my criteria? What allows YOU to call yourself a writer (or not)?
TWEETABLES
If you write but you’re not published, can you call yourself a writer? Click to Tweet.
Are you ever conflicted about whether to call yourself a writer? Click to Tweet.
Image copyright: uvaconcept / 123RF Stock Photo
I envy the hiking Rachelle. I would so love to hear the great silences and gurgling brooks again. Gladwell would say that even being critiqued is not enough. My youngest son has often referred his writing to me, but he has a lot to learn about writing; although the talent is there and many agree with that. To Gladwell’s point, Danny will need to keep going, for a good few years yet and work every agony and ecstasy, every major lift and minor fall, before he tips. Maybe 10,000 hours is arbitrary as some authors have successfully published really young. I suppose the test will come when a writer’s works stand up to robust scrutiny, but that will coincide with their tipping point, for as Paul said, “their gift will make a way for them” as their cumulative efforts achieve critical mass. I have seen that pattern in so many aspects of life where promising talent faces its defining moment to remove all doubt and rise to the occasion. Elijah’s dream comes to mind. Initially we wet toes and elicit feedback on our personal aspirations. That is tame stuff. Then we get serious and wade in deeper and deeper, with increasing resolve, until we pass our angst, passions and best intentions, and catch the wave of opportunity that takes us to our destiny. (I didn’t rush to be first, just couldn’t sleep – must have been dreaming of open country again).
That’s interesting…that the definition is something like the refiners’ fire which leaves either gold or ash.
It was Ezekiel’s dream .. sorry.
Peter,
I’ve been thinking about the same question as Rachelle, I guess it’s a common one. Back in February I thought about it in the context of Gladwell’s 10,000 hours thesis. Even with a conservative take on it you get a lot of those hours for writing (well literacy) from primary and high school. Even at just an hour a day for that time you get over the 3,000 hours mark.
If you worked at it full time, 40 hours a week, then 10,000 hours only takes 250 weeks, a little over five years on normal working time, a lot less if you are a crazy passionate start-up style with your hours.
Here’s my blog post on it http://www.themself.org/2015/02/five-million-words/
I suppose but I started counting when I got serious about writing. All other writing was actually just communication. The last 10 years have been far more intense and the acid test that it was real lay in the learning curve. On that basis 10000 is 2.5 hours every day for 10 years and that is significant. Most writers confirm a 10 year incubation.
You can count it any way you like, Gladwell’s hypothesis counted from when people started a particular skill. I don’t expect that anyone ever starts learning something with the sole intention of becoming world class at it. I’m sure some do, but most probably get there when they realise that they enjoy it enough to persevere with it.
For me all writing is about communication. There needs to be a purpose to it, even if just to tell a story. Without a message to communicate a piece of writing is just a collection of semi-random words. The key skill for a writer is organising those words in a way that puts an idea in another person’s head without the writer having to be present.
I’m lucky that I’ve got a day job that is all about communicating ideas, and a lot of that has been in written form. I’ve spent a couple of decades trying to be a good writer. I’m now three years into a ten year plan to become good at writing fiction. With luck I can supplement my pension with some royalties when I retire (in 2032).
Thats being a bit definitive James. 10000 hours is not a magic number but a principle and for me that ptinciple relates to time, persistence, teachability and humility. I think that is valid for every writer but note how God also imposed years on biblical souls. Well anyway. I know this that at 5 years I thought I knew it all and at 10 I realised how little I know at all.
This is such a good conversation. I think it brings up a bigger issue: is being called a “writer” something that is externally or internally defined? There is no licensing or credential. So who gets to decide?
I was mostly talking about the moment when a person feels comfortable labeling themselves a writer. But I know people will always disagree on when someone should be considered by the world to be a writer.
I’m thinking a lot about the 10,000 hours, and I’m not sure that’s the bar we need to set. Surely there are people with several published books who still have not reached 10k.
Hmm…
Rachelle, I certainly have found the notion of serving our time to be valid in so many empirical ways, but I also think that 10,000 is arbitrary and, as acknowledged earlier, I concede that younger writers have made it earlier. But look at the music industry, which more vividly shows how many one-trick-ponies or one-off-hits have happened, versus the few who pushed through to become pervasive and persistent legends. It takes some talent to score once, maybe twice, but to become a bankable, long-term phenomenon, that talent also needs substance. I know this that as I plodded along, I went through many drifts. At one stage I was very subjective, because I was in crisis, then I shifted to a more objective posture. Later I wrote for a publisher and infused my writing with eloquence, but that didn’t work either, so I simplified, stripping away multi-syllable words, long sentences, superlatives, long paragraphs, and words that could be expressed more simply, to become more impressionist. I also let characters speak and downplayed my personal conjecture. That, to me, goes to the art rather than the science of writing. It is not easily acquired, any more than a great talent in any other expression is great only because of their raw talent … subtlety comes with time and it weaves a different kind of magic, that is to my mind simply not possible without a march of time, but is in in any case rarely sustainable. Ask a record company who they would prefer to bank in terms of an investment – the one-hit-wonder-boy or someone who has the nous to go the distance and keep going when others fall away. That is the difference between, say Gaga and Pink or Michelangelo and a street artist. It is no coincidence either, that Michelangelo served his time and even dissected cadavers to grasp the dimensional depth and subtleties of the human frame – that distinction lives on in the David before which I wept 15 years ago. A fitting tribute came from his Florentian teacher, who dismissively asked him to finish a hand he was painting, only to resign on his return, in deference to a surpassing talent whose time had come.
What a challenging topic! Your criteria seem fine to me, and I fit all three of them.
* But I hesitate to call myself a Writer, for a couple of reasons –
1) For me, writing’s the tool that I use to communicate ideas. I’m not in love with literary elegance, and I won’t spend hours trying to find the perfect word for a mid-paragraph, mid-novel sentence (I will do that for critical sentences, though). I’ve seen people (some in this community) for whom it seems quite different, as they are both master and servant of their art. I envy them, but it would be a presumption to count myself among them. A tradesman among savants, I bow to their skill, and hope to learn from the gleanings I find in their sparkling wake.
2) Self-identification AS something can too easily become a pose, one that atrophies the facility to grasp serendipity. I have done a lot of things in my life, but have lately learned that I was never any of the things I did; they were and are part of me, subsumed in my soul. I’m simply me, someone who can do some things well, and some things not so well (watch me dance sometime), and who may tomorrow find something he does spectacularly badly. I write, but the writer lives within me; I am not beholden to the chains that define him, even though they may be of pure and heavy gold.
* And I might add another criterion…
A WRITER can say, in simple sentences and words of two syllables or less, that which the rest of us need ten-dollar words and excruciatingly baroque sentence structure to express.
Drew, point 3 is powerful. Steve Laube described how loss of work had him feeling he was worthless until he went back to his bible and asserted that his life was not defined by his work. That has its place. However, there is a counter-notion, as in “we don’t go to church”, rather, “we are the church” – and that is also biblical. What I find Drew and Rachelle, is that a true writer has certain hallmarks that give them away, separate them from others and predict greatness, as in “many called but few chosen”. Wannabees turn away at some stage, but true writers immerse themselves and go beyond toe-wetting and experimenting, until their passion so overtakes them that they cease to be souls who write and become writers first. They are persistent, defiant, unyielding and courageous, qualities that provide the contrary winds that chisel them into something of surpassing value. To me, writing is a very high calling – the entire testament of God from ages past was entrusted to scribes who were incredibly faithful, persistent and careful, even at risk of life and limb. Look at how Paul responded – he didn’t say, “I do the work of an apostle”, but asserted, “I am an apostle”. Our work will become us, if it is called by God and ignited by His passion. When I started, I was a toe-wetter, only really journalising my experiences, until a fire started to overtake and drive me, beyond any reason I could defend before family or friends. It inspired, fired, drove and pulled me through my darkest years. I see that light or fire in the writers I engage in this blog site and I see it in you. I say again, “I see a calling on your life, not from me, not from Rachelle or BAS (which is a high enough calling), but from God – and I challenge you to find that niche where, like Jesus, you do few things exceptionally well”. Who knows, maybe like Michelangelo, God stripped away all in you that didn’t look like a writer until all that now remains is all He ever wanted from you. There is no greater honor than to be called by God to a given purpose.
Andrew, you bring up a good point in that we shouldn’t allow what we do define who we are, in our minds especially. We aare more than what we do.
And for the record, you dance beautifully with words.
Thanks Jeanne! 🙂
Andrew, I really like these thoughts, especially the idea that to label yourself as something can be limiting. Writing is something we DO and it’s one part of us, but doesn’t define us. I love the part about our facility to grasp serendipity. What a great way to put it!
Rachelle,
I’d more or less agree with your criteria. A level of self-awareness and understanding that the first draft you write isn’t polished enough for prime time is probably enough. That and going about it on a regular basis.
I still haven’t got quite as far as describing myself as a blogger, but was reflecting on it over the weekend. A festival I was at had a few people that did describe themselves as bloggers and it made me think about it. I’m over 400 posts and almost a quarter of a million words into blogging. Why shouldn’t I describe myself as a writer?
James, I hear you. I had over 1000 posts and a really successful blog for more than 5 years before I was able to call myself a blogger. I don’t know why! Maybe it felt like I was putting on airs. 🙂
Yes, I think that is exactly my issue. Using the label seems like I am setting myself up as someone that knows more than other people, which I’m uncomfortable with. I’ve never seen myself as an absolute expert, there are always people that are more capable than me out there.
That said, it’s not like I know nothing…
I write. I teach. I pray. I am a servant of the Lord, doing what he has equipped me to do (well, at least some of the time–I am a work in progress). My identity is not in what I do, but in who I serve. Not to write–that would be hiding my light under a bushel. To write and not put the words out where others will read them–that would also be hiding my light under a bushel. I don’t have trouble saying “I am a writer” to people who understand this. I choke on the words when I am talking to people who don’t understand the basic spiritual principle involved.
Yes, Shirlee – and isn’t this true about so many topics of conversation? It can be much more difficult to communicate about anything when we’re not speaking with someone who speaks our spiritual language.
Rachelle, this goes along with a question I intended to send you as a jumping off spot for a future blog–we write, but then our work is read and suggestions made by critique groups, editors, and others. Are we still writers if it takes all this to get our work into print? You’ve crystalized the answer here with what you’ve said about rewrites. We come up with an idea, others make suggestions, but when we take those and put them into words, we’re writers. Thanks for answering my question (even when I didn’t ask it yet).
Well, Richard, I guess I received that ESP message from you, across the miles.
Ah, Richelle, what is the definition of that word to us? In instances like this, I turn to one of the wittiest writers I’ve read: Lewis Carroll aka Charles Dodgson, who wrote in “Alice Through the Looking Glass” this conversation:
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that’s all.”
What a perfectly wonderful passage! I love it. And you hit the nail on the head. How do we define “writer”? Who gets to decide?
And… does it matter?
If those are the criteria, then, yes, I am a writer. Whew! It’s good to know. 🙂
Well see, I’ve done one good thing today! 🙂
Right or wrong, I think the first time I felt like a legitimate writer was when someone I knew introduced me to a stranger and added, “she’s a writer.”
Of course I then had to answer the question, “what do you write?”
But I could answer, all the while feeling absurdly grateful someone was proud of my writing–whether they’d read it or not!
🙂
Michelle, I get it. That speaks to the idea that we all need to be validated. Sounds like that external confirmation of your status as a writer helped you overcome impostor syndrome.
I love your criteria, Rachelle. Confidence has never been my strong suit. When my husband was in the service, and I was taking a college class on base amidst military men (the only one not in camo) and was asked to say something about myself, I said, “I’m a dependent.” My teacher laughed and said, “You’re more than that.” Right or wrong, I never felt confident to say, “I’m a writer” until I began getting paid for writing.
Shelli, I love how that instructor brought out the truth of who are you. Not “just” a dependent, but an individual with passions and a unique identity. You’re so much more than the label, “dependent” signifies! 🙂
Thank you, Jeanne! 🙂
I asked my 17 year daughter about this. She said, “You are a writer when God tells you you are. He’s the only one who can label you.” 🙂
Shelli,
How beautiful and insightful a comment by your daughter!
It’s true, in many areas of life, we are not considered “legitimate” until we’re getting paid.
Yet that leaves out the massive amounts of work being done by volunteers.
And it also leaves out the hobbyists everywhere. If you bowl on a weekly bowling league, can you call yourself a bowler? If you go for a five mile run most days of the week, are you a runner?
The questions bring up some deep issues about how we define ourselves. And it does require some confidence to attach a label to what we do, and say that is what we ARE.
Interesting topic, and thought-provoking. I like your criteria. For the longest time, I was uncomfortable calling myself a writer. But now, after working at this for five years, and meeting most of your criteria, I feel confident in calling myself a writer. And, having an author-friend remind me, “You are a writer,” has reaffirmed that thought in my mind. Now, an author . . . ? That’s a different story.
Do people differentiate between writers and authors? In my mind, an author is one who has one or more books published. Thoughts?
Jeanne, maybe that’s the distinction I was looking for in my questions below.
Peter, sometimes it’s hard to give hard definitions to intangible concepts, isn’t it? This is definitely a broader topic than I realized before today. 🙂
You’re kind of a special case, Jeanne, being the prizewinning writer of a novel that is as yet unpublished. That suggests the following progression, at least to me –
– Wannabe: someone who wants to write a novel, but never finishes one.
– Hobby Writer: one who has completed a first draft, and thinks it adequate, or has written for a very limited audience (like a memoir for family and close friends)
– Writer: One who has written a novel, and has taken the revision process through multiple drafts with significant changes.
– Professional Writer: one who has written for compensation, or who has made the decision to pursue writing as a career, and has devoted full-time effort to the craft, without generating significant income from other ‘working’ sources
– Author: one who has had a book-length work published, has self-published and marketed their own work, or who has achieved professional recognition for unpublished work.
* That makes you an author, Jeanne.
Hmm, Andrew. I’ve never thought about it that way. Interesting perspective. 🙂
Andrew – I really like the taxonomy you’ve produced. We’re all one of the types, and the level of skill and perseverance involved determines which kind we are!
I have always thought that a writer is someone who writes, not necessarily someone who has been published. I wrote short stories for 20 years before I had one published. If I was not a writer during those 20 years, what was I?
I do differentiate between writers and authors, but my background in bookstores and libraries may have something to do with that. To my way of thinking, a writer is not always an author, but an author is always a writer.
So, haven’t I said enough? I suppose so. But I went away to think more on what is a very stimulating debate – thanks. I see where you are coming from Rachelle, so rather than assume anything, let me ask: are you implying that passing the edit phase is like getting qualified, which at least in a figurative sense it is i.e. the writing is qualified and stood up to scrutiny? If so, then is a doctor a doctor because he is qualified? Is clearing the editing hurdle enough to green light a writer or would they still have more hurdles? I suppose the answer is yes? So are they qualified by an editor or by their audience? Lastly, is the operative sense here one of being a writer only, not necessarily a good or accepted one? The questions are asked sincerely as I think there is something in all of this that I may well be missing (no pun intended) and I would like to understand more.
Peter, by going through the editing phase, I wasn’t referring to being qualified by someone else. I was referring to DOING THE WORK of a writer. I don’t believe anyone can call themselves a writer if they’re not comfortable editing and rewriting their own work. Otherwise, everything you put down on the page is a vanity piece. I really meant that this is how one becomes a true craftsman, actually learns the craft: the willingness to dig deep, take criticism, and continually improve. Does that make sense?
My other criteria (somebody, somewhere has said YES to your work) is about being qualified by some external standard.
Rachelle, I think you have hit on a tender topic. Even successful writers fall victim to “imposter syndrome” in which people from all walks of live question their validity in their professional area and often fear being “found out.”
I think it is more prevalent in the “creative” professions.
I am uncomfortable calling myself a writer, although I have had numerous published magazine stories. I think I actually got the most validation when I won a well-known flash fiction contest. When and if my novel is published, I think I will feel like I “made it.”
I’m going to brag.
Like “show me the money” kind of brag.
As un-Canadian as that is.
Here’s goes…
When I’m ‘in good voice’, I can sing Mozart’s Der Holle Rache. Yup, The Revenge Aria in The Magic Flute.
That involves F notes (in a key of D minor).
Would I sing it in public? AHAHA. No.
But crank the cd player at home and the neighbours get a free concert.
Are there amateurs who sing it better? Of course! Probably hundreds of thousands.
But, my point is, I *can* sing the brutal chorus of that aria. I can la-la-la along to the words, because my high speed German is lousy.
But, as I said, in private.
Would I dare go on stage to sing it?
It depends on how many book deals are involved.
Whether or not I sing that or any other piece in public or private doesn’t take away from a) how bad I sound until I’ve practiced it enough to do it in my sleep, and b) that I am a singer.
Oh, and anyone who doesn’t pass out after that aria is superhuman.
So, what makes me a writer?
Many things, the greatest of which are the 2 completed books sitting and waiting for a home. The beta readers who email me and confess to crying. Which makes me think that I did indeed ball park certain scenes.
Mostly though, that I can’t not write.
When one is sick or injured and manages to configure a way to bring the laptop to bed so she can write, that is a writer!
*
So, why did I get all braggy and go on and on about that aria? Because the ability to sing is something intangible. Yes, singing *can* be taught, but the tools have to already be in place.Then there’s that magical blessing inside one’s vocal chords and vocal register (your skull) which cannot be taught, bought, or tamed.
No, I’m not Diana Damrau, nor am I even close.
I’m not Laura Frantz, or Lori Benton, or Tamara Leigh, either.
I’m me.
I can take readers far away and deep down and leave them wanting more. I’ve been told that, and it gives me the fuel to keep going.
Yes, I AM a writer.
*
*
For those curious, here is Diana Damrau. The woman is an athlete with lungs. https://youtu.be/qMSgzuTA38A
I’ll take one ounce of your confidence! 🙂 And the thing I love about you is that you are so willing to share it. You always encourage me.
I like your definition, Rachelle. It reminds me of a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson: When I say writing, believe me, it is rewriting that I have chiefly in mind.
Great quote!
I feel you’re a writer if you write with the goal of having your words read by others. That means you write purposefully and with the aim of consciously improving your skill.
If you refuse to let anyone else see your scribblings, or if you think everything you write is perfect the second it hits the page or screen, you’re a hobbyist.
When you’re published, with your work available to be criticized by complete strangers who were not solicited to read it, you’re an author.
I agree for the most part about what you say about calling yourself a “writer”. However, I have a bone to pick with people who call themselves a “professional writer”. Just because someone writes a blog or volunteers to write a newsletter for a church or a non-profit or writes just for the fun of it that does not make you a “professional writer”. A “professional writer” or more likely a “semi-professional writer” is someone who gets paid to write or edit. If you are not earning money on your writings than you are not a professional.
I like how you distinguish a writer. I’ve always considered a writer to be merely one who writes, no more, no less. The distinction was, for me, between writer and author. The difference being publication. Your insight adds a new layer. Thank you.
Perhaps there are some alternatives to “writer” and “author”…how about Literary Technologist? Verbiage Engineer? Drivel Regulator?
* And perhaps the ultima thule, or the nadir…Wordsmith (or Wordsmythe, to give it the haute monde air of sophistication)
What if someone were to write a perfect first draft? I know that’s unlikely, but would that mean the person wasn’t a writer? I think we need to distinguish between a writer, which is anyone who writes, and a professional writer. I hope everyone reading this blog is the second kind.
Janet, I submit that even in the case of a perfect first draft, it’s the willingness to take edits and reconsider and rewrite your work that determines if you’re a writer. Calling someone something, “writer” or “blacksmith” or “doctor” connotes a level of expertise. No expertise can be reached without practice and making mistakes and learning from them. Maybe that person doesn’t need an edit, but I would hope they’d at least seek one out, in the interest of creating the best possible work.
It’s not likely that anyone would write a perfect one anyway.
My first thought to your question, Rachelle, was:
Was Emily Dickinson a writer?
Being a writer is another one of those ticklish things which cannot be decided by looking on. It is strictly a matter of the heart and soul.
I have made tens of thousands of meals in my life, but am I a cook? No. My mother now, there was a cook!
For years I operated a D7 Caterpillar, working with my husband in his dirt moving business. Am I a Cat Skinner? Not even. But Milton is, born in the blood.
Do you have to be published to be a writer? Not really. It’s nice tho, especially if you want to have your work in print. But the more important question is, do you love doing it? Would you do it Without getting published?
Is it necessary to have someone else rule, according to criteria they have determined, or can you hold up your work to the expectations of your own mind and be satisfied with it?
Is it your heart and soul?
If yes, then you are a writer. No matter what happens.
You raise an interesting question of nature versus nurture, with the corollary paradox…can there be writing savants? In poetry, certainly…but in novel-length works? Love to hear Rachelle’s take on that!
* And for my morey, you certainly are a catskinner.
Wanda, it’s a legitimate question – who determines whether one is a writer? As I mentioned in a couple of comments above, I think there will always be a variety of opinions on whether this is something externally defined, or internally. You are arguing for internally. Some would say that a writer needs to be “qualified” by an external standard.
Emily Dickinson certainly qualifies as a writer based on the fact that others have said “yes” to her work, and millions have paid good money for it.
Your example about your mother being a cook seems to say that there is an external standard one must reach, i.e. your mother cooks better meals, so she is a cook. Yours are only average, so you are not a cook. I’m not sure I buy that! I think you are just to modest!
I do not know what a Cat Skinner is, but it sounds like you were one! Is modesty at play here? I imagine your operated the D& alongside Milton, in the service of making a living for your family. That sounds pretty professional to me.
So what we can see here is that “labels” can be extremely personal, and we have varying levels of comfort with what we call ourselves. Some are too modest or lack confidence to call themselves writers, while some are over-confident and call themselves writers when others would beg to disagree!
I came to realize that you can start calling yourself a writer when your own mindset has embraced it. I’ve learned that in order to BE a thing you first must BELIEVE you are a thing. The next step is exactly what Rachelle has indicated: When you’ve submitted your work to someone to edit, and you make changes to improve your writing. These two elements have to be in place before the “magic” (if you can call it that) happens. The rest of it flows from these seeds.
I hear you, Patricia. This makes me wonder, then: is there a difference between calling ourselves a writer in our own minds, versus in cocktail party conversation? Hmm…
I’m a fan of these criteria, Rachelle. I used to say, “Well, I’m more of a rewriter than a writer.” But I felt like that was a confession to not being a real writer, as though my writing was flawed, not “real.” If I were a real writer, a couple of grammar and typo fixes would be all I needed, right?
Now, as an adult, I understand how essential rewriting is to add layers and depth to the very real writing that was already done.
Blessings,
Voni
Voni, I think that might be a misconception many people have! They think a “real writer” doesn’t need editing, when in fact it’s exactly the opposite. Thanks for bringing up a good point!
Interesting question and discussion. How about if you’ve been published (a book and numerous magazine articles) in one genre (non-fiction, business), but are now working on another (literary fiction)? I was encouraged to switch in the middle of my second business book by my writers group. Whether true or not they told me the stories I was writing to enhance the book were too good and I should dump that book and write a novel.
I would call myself a writer because I work at it as a craft. I am serious about the work, constantly re-write and fix, and strive to improve and learn more about writing.
Interesting topic and conversation! I like your criteria for calling one’s self a writer. It makes sense that you have to put yourself out there in someway, otherwise it’s almost like the old tree falling in a forest question. What I will not call myself, out of respect to the industry and to all of the great authors that have inspired me, is an author. Until I am (hopefully someday) traditionally published that word is taboo to me.
Entirely, my option: Anyone who writes is a writer. Someone who sells his or her writing for a profit is a professional writer. Someone who has published a book and made a profit (money earned minus all expenses involved in writing and and publishing the book, if indie published) is an author.
I think your definition is that of a professional writer, one who actively seeks to be published or make money writing words. Whereas, anyone who enjoys writing and regularly practices the art is a writer.
The scenario that comes to mind is when someone asks, “What do you do?” The professional writer would say, “I’m a writer.” The person who simply writes for the enjoyment of it might say she’s a plumber, a teacher, a homemaker, a student, and the topic of writing may or may not enter the conversation.
Both might think of themselves as writers and both would be correct. However, we all know the next question would be, “What do you write?” or “Where have you been published?” This is where the professional writer and the writer are differentiated.
It’s okay to call yourself a writer if that’s what you do professionally or otherwise, as long as you are comfortable with the title, and as long as you understand that when you tell others you are a writer they may expect you to have certain credentials for the job.
I agree if you write regularly then you are a writer. If you blog,,get published or do free lance then you might add professional writer. Writers love to write, so they should feel free to call themselves writers.
What is a writer? If any one who can put pen to paper is a writer, then the number of writers must be incredibly large. I define a writer as someone who has something to say, says it but says it well, eloquently and pleasantly. In other words, a writer produces artistic pieces of work.
By simply writing a couple of words in the form of a comment in a blog, for instance, does not make one a writer as long as the content is not exquistitely written to the finest degree. Can a writer of a recipe book be called a writer? Is a regular columnist a writer? They may be excellent in their spot on comments, but how far can they be called writers?
The agrument that you’re not a writer until you’re published does not hold water. Of course, a publish author of well-wrought out, relevant and valid outputs may easily be called a writer, but that does not exclude from the same title those who have dedicated time and energy to express themselves in an impeccable manner. If someone has written a number of works but hadn’t the time or the opportunity to publish them, does that mean that the person is not a writer. If the same person, on the other hand, wrote and had the opportunity to publish the same works, does that make them a writer?
One point which needs reflection is this: how many writers had their works printed posthumously? Are these writers?
Thank you for writing this. Ever since I’ve started writing, I’ve had a hard time expressing the fact that I am a writer. It’s super easy telling people I’m a mother or a teacher because people can “see” it. They see the product of my work. However, as a self-published writer with a second novel in progress, it’s difficult showing people. Your blog made me feel better about my goals and the fact that I am a writer!
Jessica, who is your audience? What are you writing? Why are you writing?
These are just a couple of crucial questions to ponder upon. Avoid the temptation to write for success! See that your writing is artistically crafted, but whether it’s going to make it to the market and eventually become a success that’s another matter.
You need not worry if not all people can “see” you as a writer. Time and circumstance will tell what you are. Keep on writing about what is of great value to you – and the world. I’ve discovered several writers through the stream of my life who have written valuable material without publishing it. I’ve come to know others who have published a number of valid books without making it to the bill boards! People will get to your work once they realise the relevance within your work. Start discussing what you’re doing with a small circle of people who may be interested in writing, sharing your ideas amongst you. Built on that. In this way you may realise the value of your writing even more.
Take care.
I have to agree with your assessment. I have written a lot of words over the years but it was the first time that I submitted to have my work edited that I realized what it really was about. I still have most of what I have written and am working this year on the rewriting phases. This is the first time I have considered myself a writer.
I’m one of those who prefer to create ‘literature’ than please readers with run-of-the-mill, cheap material. What are we after – to pamper ourselves with published material which won’t resist the test of time or to produce original material which pleases by its very subtle content of an exquisite degree?
So while I wouldn’t disagree on going for quality, which you should definitely do. If you are trying to make a living from writing then you do need to bear in mind the commercial realities. It should never be ‘cheap’, but it might need to be ephemeral to pay the bills.
James, I do understand the spirit of your reply. But ‘ephemeral’ has to be qualified lest it ends up on the same level of ‘cheap’. I find reading quality material second to none and most enjoyable. There is a strong market for such publications, and readers are willing to pay for the best rather than anything else. I often meet readers disappointed by the lack of material which satisfies their urge for excellent and unequalled publications.