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 by loose extrapolation, about a billion people worldwide keep journals or have kept them in the past.
If you’re reading this, you probably have some interest in writing. Maybe a story idea is burning inside you, or you’ve gained knowledge through work or life 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.
What separates the people who are writers from those who only say they want to write? It’s not talent, publishing credentials, or a degree. In Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking, the authors put it this way:
“Even talent is rarely distinguishable over the long run from perseverance and lots of hard work.”
Perseverance. As in writing. A lot. I’m a writer, so I get how frustratingly simplistic that sounds. Put your butt in the chair. Write the words. If you do that, you’re a writer. As Art and Fear also says, “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.
Not interested in publishing? That’s fine. A sustainable journaling habit that delivers the benefits of writing every day is a noble goal, and it takes perseverance too — maybe more, since journaling makes us face ourselves on the page.
The second thing you need is a little sexier: passion. But not just any passion. You need passion for the process.
I saw this play out in my own family. My daughter loved swimming as a kid, but as the competitions grew more intense, she started losing her love of the sport. A mentor wrote her a note that went something like this:
“Forget the flip turns and the stopwatch. Go back to the time when you couldn’t wait for your turn on the block, when everything about the meet was fun. Think about those things before your next race and see what happens.”
She took the advice. Her times improved, she enjoyed the sport again, and she went on to swim on scholarship in college.
I thought about this when I realized I’ve only called myself a writer for a handful of years, even though I’ve been paid to write my whole adult life. The noble title of writer isn’t connected to pay. You’re not a painter, dancer, singer, or writer because someone pays you. As Elizabeth Gilbert writes in Big Magic, “Do whatever brings you to life. Follow your own fascinations, obsessions, and compulsions. Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart.” I’d misplaced my love of writing because I was being paid for it, and when your motivation is payment, you’re doing what gets you paid, not what you love. There’s nothing wrong with that — but it’s in the passion for the process 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 resources in the art, and you persevere even when it’s hard, boring, and unrewarding.
2. Passion for the process. You keep that passion alive by forgetting about outcomes and reconnecting with what brought you to the page in the first place.
(I found Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic profoundly helpful in rediscovering my love of my art. If you’re looking to embark on a long-deferred creative dream, I highly recommend it.)