The Two Things Required to Claim the Title of Writer

According to the New York Times, about 200 million people say they want to write a book someday. And based on loose statistics and a little extrapolation, about one billion people worldwide keep journals or have kept journals in the past.

If you’re reading this, you probably have some interest in writing. Maybe you have a story idea burning inside of you. Or perhaps you’ve gained valuable knowledge through work or life experiences that you’d like to share in a nonfiction book. But you’d never call yourself a writer. That title is reserved for published authors, right?

Think again.

If you fear you lack the talent or experience to write, think again. Guess what separates the people who are writers and those who say they want to write?

It’s not talent. (Or publishing credentials. Or degree programs).

The authors of Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking address this question early in the book:

“Even talent is rarely distinguishable over the long run from perseverance and lots of hard work.”

Perseverance? As in writing. A lot. Well, crapola.

I’m a writer. I get how frustratingly simplistic this is. Put your butt in the chair. Write the words.

If you do that — if you write, well then, you’re a writer.

Another quote from Art and Fear: . . .

“You learn how to make your work by making your work.”

Wanna-be writers become writers by making their work. And writers become authors by making their work.

But what if you’re not interested in publishing? That’s okay. A sustainable journaling habit that delivers the benefits of writing on a daily basis is a noble goal.

Perseverance is necessary for consistent journaling, as well. Maybe more so, since journaling requires us to face ourselves on the page, often in a way that reflects things back to us that we are able to avoid elsewhere. It’s like the act of combining our thoughts and feelings with ink and paper somehow removes more of the filters and we’re left with something closer to the truth. (If you’re interested in my class Writing the W.A.V.E.S., which focuses on creating a consistent journaling habit, go here to get more information.)

The second thing you need to call yourself a writer is a little sexier than persevering at the practice of writing.

It’s passion.

But not just any passion. You need passion for the process.

I saw this play out in my own family. When my daughter was young, she joined a summer swim league and loved it. So she joined a club swim team and loved it even more. In time, her swimming became more serious and the competitions became more intense. Eventually, she was on a high school swim team that was vying for a state championship. As they got closer to that state meet, my daughter wasn’t swimming well. She began to lose her love of the sport.

A mentor wrote her a note of encouragement that went something like this:

“Forget the flip turns and the stop watch. Go back to that time when you couldn’t wait until it was your turn to step up on the block, when everything about the swim meet was fun — the time with your friends, seeing your name in the heat sheet, putting on your new goggles — think about those things before your next race and see what happens.”

My daughter heeded the advice. Her times started improving; she began to enjoy her sport again and although all her challenges in the water didn’t resolve themselves overnight, she did get better and go on to swim on scholarship in college.

I was thinking about this the other day when contemplating the reason why I have only been calling myself a writer for a handful of years. I should have embraced the title long ago since I’ve been paid to write my entire adult life, right? That’s the distinction.

The noble title of writer is not connected to pay. I believe that the noble title of any creative endeavor is unrelated to compensation.

You are not a painter, sculptor, seamstress, illustrator, dancer, singer or writer because someone pays you to do those things.

“Do whatever brings you to life, then. Follow your own fascinations, obsessions, and compulsions. Trust them. Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart.” Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

I had misplaced my love of writing because I was being paid to write, and when your motivation is payment, you’re not doing what you love. You’re doing what will get you paid.

There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s necessary for most of us to draw a paycheck, and using a skill born of a passion to make a living is fantastic. I still write for pay and will continue to do so. Plenty of other creatives do their art in some fashion for payment.

But it is in the passion for the process and practice of the art that we find the courage to claim the title.

So what does it take to be a writer?

1. Writing.

You invest your time and your resources in the art and you persevere even when the writing is hard, boring, unrewarding.

2. Passion for the process.

You find a way to keep this passion alive by forgetting about outcomes and digging deep to connect with what brought you to the page in the first place.

NOTE: I found Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear to be profoundly helpful in rediscovering my love of my art. If you’re looking for inspiration or guidance in finding inspiration to live a creative life and to embark on a dream long-deferred, I highly recommend this book.