I want to become “a writer.” I studied writing (many different forms and styles). I’ve analyzed writing and even had to critique others’ works in fiction classes. I’ve also written for a newspaper and some online magazines. But still, yet, I do not call myself a “writer.” For some reason, I refuse to call myself such—I feel I haven’t reached that point yet. The point which I consider myself a real life, working, living, breathing writer.
Maybe it’s because I fear being called a writer. I am scared of the expectations that come with that title. After years—maybe ten years—of writing everyday, maybe then I will be comfortabe with calling myself a writer. (A professor I had for poetry class always said something along the lines of “it takes doing something for 500 hours before you can consider yourself a professional.” I took that to heart.)
And today, after finding this article in my bookmarks, I realized it’s something many struggle with; being considered “a writer” or not. But someday I truly hope to be able to say with fervor: Yes. I am a writer.
As for now—now I say:
I am simply someone who writes.