"I hear you're a writer..."
Are these the words we dream will one day be said to us?
We now live in a small enough place where everyone knows someone who knows someone. It’s taking a little getting used to. The evidence comes from some of the surprises offered up in casual conversation: “Oh Graham, he’s my cousin” or “I’ve known Sally for nearly forty years; I used to teach her and her brother”… You get the picture.
Gradually we’re coming to know people here - and, it transpires, becoming known. Before a recent game of indoor cricket, one of my new acquaintances said “I hear you’re a writer”. You see, they know someone who knows me…
It was a thrill to hear those words, of course; and even more so because they weren’t loaded in any way. The subtext was ‘I hear you’re a writer, therefore I accept that you are’; there was no undertone of doubt or disbelief, no scepticism.
I have taken to calling myself ‘a writer’ since I retired from my previous full-time profession. Not a little courage was required in taking the first step - and now I’ll happily put ‘writer’ as my profession on formal documents. [Of course the people least likely to accept you as a writer are those family and friends who’ve known you for years; to them you’ll always be ‘just Sam’.] So hearing it played back to me in such a non-judgemental way was great. I’m sure those who believe in ‘manifestation’ would say it proved their theory.
But Bob’s statement got me thinking. What does it actually mean, “I am a writer”?
There are multiple answers, of course. Indeed, a whole spectrum which ranges from one extreme - “although I’ve not actually completed anything and/or have never had anything published and/or I know what I produce is not very good [delete as appropriate] yet I do put one word in front of another and therefore am a writer” - to the other - “I know you’ve heard of me because I’m a best-seller / have been on television / won the Booker Prize”.
And all points in between.
Indeed there are various branches off the main trunk of this particular tree; branches created through considerations of ‘celebrity’ or genre or movement or the one-book KDP ‘published author’ etcetera etcetera. It might be entertaining to attempt to draw up such a tree… But for now, let’s assume that there are no branches and we’re talking about a continuum of sorts. Under such circumstances, the inevitable follow on question is where would I place myself on it?
If we assume the left-hand end represents the most extreme ‘amateur’ (as above) and the right-hand the most extreme ‘professional’ (also as above), then I suppose (my intrinsic literary snobbery notwithstanding!) I must be somehow middling.
My credentials are:
I write - and I now consider my writing ‘work’ (I have no other);
I am published - both traditionally and self;
I help others get their work into print / run groups / mentor other writers;
and all of that is ‘visible’ via the Internet, Amazon, websites and so forth.
Surely that gets me some way towards the right - or perhaps more importantly for me, away from the left. And yet I don’t feel as if I am far enough along - something I’m pretty sure the ‘brand’ questionnaire I’ve started to fill out will only confirm.
Is that valid - both where I would place myself and the desire to move further to the right? (not politically, obviously!) Surely it’s not unreasonable to aspire, to be ambitious, to want ‘success’, recognition, sales and so forth. And, yes, income too. But there are limiting factors, aren’t there? Time. Talent.
Sadly, I can do nothing about time. Increasingly conscious of it, that’s one of the reasons for the name of my Substack.
And talent? Perhaps I can do nothing about that either - but at least I can try. And I try by writing, and writing, and writing. By attempting new things. By seeking feedback. By publishing. Which is why when someone tells you that one of your books ‘made them cry on the subway’ it means so much; validation that there is some talent there.
If I was more secure - or self-centred, self-obsessed - maybe the need for validation wouldn’t be an issue; but I’m not arrogant and, as for many writers, Imposter Syndrome looms large.
So in the end I make no apology for my work, how much of it there is, nor, I suppose, its variable quality from time to time. I am doing what I can, what I think I need to do, in order to move myself along just a little further.
And hopefully so that more people can say “he’s a writer”…