I’m not a writer. I’ve had thoughts of becoming one, sure, but whenever I sit down with a blank screen to fight out the words, they’re uglier than they are in my head and I never hit publish. Or I lose my focus and wander through a paragraph with nowhere to go. Because I’m not a writer.
I’m starting to notice something, though. Nobody wakes up one day suddenly overflowing with inspiration. You don’t become a writer when you gain enough life experience to have a story worth telling, or when you’ve read enough books about writing. Believe it or not, the only way to become a writer is by writing. You work with what you have, and you write past the ugly, past the lost, until you get something beautiful. Or maybe just readable.
So this is my opportunity to make writing work. To wrestle with a blank page over and over again. To hit publish before I feel finished. To just get something down. I’ll write with the hope that someday I might look around and realize I’ve actually become a writer.