I'm a little ambivalent about titles. On one hand, I feel as if they can pigeon-hole us: the cool kids, the dweebs, the nerds, the band geeks, the jocks. On the other hand I feel as if titles give us... well... a sense of entitlement. Or empowerment: esquire, president, CEO, secret agent, supermodel, superhero, etc.
Over the years I've traveled through a bunch of titles:
Actress
Singer
Daughter
Sister
President
New Kid
Lonely Girl
Popular Girl
Sorority Girl
Nerd
Producer
Unemployed
Girlfriend
Wife
Couch Potato
Runner
Marathoner
(and back to) Couch Potato :)
Yet there's been one title I keep struggling with over the years: "writer." Have we talked about this already? I feel like I talk about it all the time.
When I was a kid, I remember holding my first "published book" with pride. We were in third grade and had been assigned to write a book titled "All About Me." The book was about 6 pages long with one sentence per page. In the school's office, it was spiral bound with a laminated cardboard cover. Inside you would read about, well... me. I had a big brother and a cat named Maxinne. I wanted to be an actress, a hairdresser, or a lawyer. At the end, it was followed by an "About the Author" page, which listed the same information.
I thought it was a treasure -- and certainly I was sure it was the most brilliant piece of literature ever created.
I wrote for fun. Or for comfort. Poems and prose got me through my tough teenage years. Journaling helped me feel as if I had an outlet.
In college I majored in English because it made sense. It balanced out my theatre major, which was "fun." The double-major in English would make me appear "serious." Graduating in three years would make me appear "super serious."
I fell into my career naturally. Having both parents as journalists (mom, a print reporter and dad, a photojournalist) would mean the apple wouldn't fall far from the tree. My dreams of becoming a hairdresser/lawyer/actress had fallen behind and my dad easily tricked me into the news business.
For years, I spent my days writing and producing stories and newscasts. I received a master's degree on fellowship from the world's best journalism school. I became a network news writer. I joined the Writers' Guild. I even landed a book deal.
And yet, even with those pretty endorsements, it has still been a struggle for me to identify with this title without following it with a question mark: I am a Writer. Period.
Sometimes I believe this struggle to call myself a writer is simply because I don't feel as if I write well enough. Or often enough.
My self-criticism serves as my limitation.
My grammar is strong. But my vocabulary could be stronger.
I compare my rough drafts with published works.
My discipline is weak.
My ideal of what a "writer" is somehow seems greater than I could ever hope to be.
And then I think of Mile 8.
As I was training for a marathon a few years ago, I would spend every Saturday morning waddling several miles, adding a couple miles to each weekend, slowly (very slowly) building up my endurance to 26 miles. I had never been a runner.
During high school I was well aware of my lack of coordination. I much preferred the camaraderie and kilts than the actual athleticism of my team sports. I happily took my place on the field hockey team playing "left bench." Lacrosse was no different. I stood in the goal, watching the rest of my teammates skimper up and down the field, praying no one would toss the ball my way. If we were challenged to run a mile during practice, I would gasp and walk and grip my aching side.
Who was I to sign up for a marathon?
I had worked my way up to eight miles in training. Eight miles without dying! It was then, that somehow I knew, no matter how slow I would end up, I would some day finish a marathon. I wasn't fast. I would certainly not win a marathon. But I spent my mornings donning a race cap and running shoes. I was slow. But I was dedicated. And by merely getting out the door in the morning, I was a runner.
So today, as I continue to fear my editor's deadline, to compare myself to "real" authors, to feel the weight of the world peeking over my shoulder and criticising every word I write, I will take a few minutes to allow myself to waddle into the world as a writer. I might tip toe my way to the end of my book. It might not resonate with any readers. But for today, I am showing up to write. I am committing to my title without question mark.
Today, I AM A WRITER.