I Am a Writer

Last weekend at the retreat, we discussed the power we receive when we label ourselves – WRITER.  Before taking the label, one pair of writing friends met every Friday to write.  Some Fridays they got a lot done.  Other Fridays?  Not so much.  They’d visit and laugh and chat.

But once they put on that label? Writing together every Friday evening.

I started writing about the same time I started grad school. By the time I graduated I knew what I wanted to do, but I fought the label.  After all, I’d spent so much time at college.  I didn’t have student loans but all that effort?  How could I follow this path?

When I finally made the decision, I called my mom.  “Mom, I know I’ve put in the effort to get both these degrees but I’m going to be a writer.

Cricket.

Cricket.

Cricket.

“It’s about time.”

“What?”

“It’s about time that you figured out that you should write.”

Yep.  Mom figured it out before I did.

I have to admit that I’m fortunate.  My family supports me in my writing.  As soon as I said I wanted to go on last weekends retreat, everyone checked their schedules to look for a way to make it happen.  But it goes way beyond that.

When we bought this house, we told the agent we needed 3 bedrooms.  There was never any question that I would work in a spare bedroom with a desk.  Nope, this is my office.  There’s no room for a bed.  My husband built a desk that wraps around three walls.  This is my writing space.

Of course, it took more than a desk to make it mine.  I write.  I rewrite.  I rewrite again.  And I submit.

Calling yourself a writer helps a lot. But in the end you have to write.

Still, first things first.  Repeat after me, I am a writer.

–SueBE

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