Last week someone pointed me to this blog post about labels – Writer vs Author. As I was reading it, I was nodding along, agreeing, until the point at which I started to feel kind of irritated. There was some uncomfortable truth in the post, and one I hadn’t been forced to think about it in a while.
A writer writes. Often. Sure they take breaks, but being a writer is a process and if you’re not involved in the process, then you can’t really call yourself a writer. There is no reason you can’t sit down and write even a hundred words a day. Hell, fifty. TWENTY. It’s still writing.
I began to justify my lack of words on page every day: But there are so many other aspects of writing that need my attention. I really need to get this outline right so that the revision can work properly. I’m world building at the moment. I have to pin down my characters; they are all over the show. I really have to get this assignment sorted. The kids need me all the time. The house needs to be cleaned. I have so many other things to do!
You get the idea…
When it comes down to it, all of those things ARE super important, both for writing, and revising in particular, and in my case, study and life in general, but they are not valid reasons for why I am not writing.
Why aren’t I writing? I have all the excuses in the world. But when it comes down to it, they are just excuses. There is no reason why I can’t find even just ten minutes a day to do the thing I love. No reason at all. I’m the only one getting in my way.
So I have picked up the pen again. Yes I have an assignment looming, and yes the pressure I feel from that is starting to build. But writing makes everything better. Knowing I am making some progress always improves my general outlook. And I have done all that restructuring and world building and planning and I’m pretty sure that this draft will kick ass. Even if I can only find 10 minutes a day to write.
I will. Because I am a writer. And writers write.