“Writer” is a word that I’ve used to describe myself since the early 2000’s.  However, my earliest memory of writing is from the first grade.  I wrote a short story where the villain—a burglar—appeared to escape using a second story balcony.  Later in the story it was revealed that the balcony had been removed just the day before.  Now that I reflect on it—this was a pretty macabre story for a first grader.

As an adult I fed my desire to write with a variety of projects.  I wrote draft chapters of non-fiction books, school papers, cover letters for job applications (for both myself and for friends) and the occasional writing project at work.  I paid for a subscription to “Writer’s Digest” and joined our local literary group.  I attended writing classes—online and in person.  In 2004, I started a novel in earnest.  Fifteen years later that novel is still nowhere near complete.     

I began to wonder if I enjoyed the idea of being a “writer” more than I liked to write.  For years I’ve dreamed of sitting in my office on a cold snowy morning drinking my coffee and plunking away at my computer.  Did I have an unrealistic romanticized idea of the writer life?

Or maybe I liked to write, but just didn’t have the persistence to finish larger writing projects.  I had lots of ideas, but none of them were fully fleshed out—they fizzled out before I really got started.

Or perhaps, writing in solitude–behind a closed door–is safe.  No judgement.  No fear of rejection.  No disappointment.

I do love words.  I like to play with words.  I love the challenge of coming up with just the right word.  My Language of Appreciation and my Love Language is “Words of Affirmation” (preferably written please!)  My friends call upon me often to help them with their resumes.  Suddenly, they are “conducting” and “designing” instead of “carrying out” and “drafting.”  I feel joyful and productive when I can write as a part or my job. 

Judging from the number of blog posts I put out in the past year and a half—uh three to be exact–you may wonder where all my “writing” ends up.  If I call myself a writer, where is all the writing? 

Here is where the lies begin…

Lie #1: I’m a writer (who never writes).

You cannot call yourself a writer—unless you write.  I haven’t even journaled consistently (ever).  One thing that I have learned from taking classes and reading about famous authors is that discipline is even more important than writing skill.  Having discipline to write, to experiment with words daily and to explore ideas on paper makes you a better writer.  Not every piece of writing is good—nor does it need to be.  My high school band teacher used to say, “a sin of omission is a greater sin than commission.”  In other words, it is better to play the note—and play the wrong note—than not to play any note.  For a true “writer” it is better to have written something (anything) than to have not written anything at all.

Lie #2: I don’t have time. 

While it takes time to write—it doesn’t have to take hours each day to be a “writer.”  I have been waiting for the perfect conditions to write.  For example:

·         “I need a full Saturday to hold up in my office and really dig in”

·         “Winter is always a better time to write because I am stuck inside”

·         Or my personal favorite, “I can’t possibly write when my house needs cleaning—I will be able to concentrate much better when my house is completely clean.”

It is true that I have a busy life, but to be honest I am missing out on critical writing time every day.  How often do I spend 20 or 30 minutes on Facebook?  Or how often am I sucked into watching “just one more episode” of something on Netflix.  The truth is—my writing will always take a back burner if I continue to deceive myself with the idea that I don’t have time.  Identifying where there are pockets of time in my day and then applying the discipline of writing within those times is what I need to become a “writer.”  As I write this there is a pile of laundry calling my name—I will resist!

Lie #3: What could I possibly say that others would value?

All the good ideas are taken.  How can I possibly be original?  Barbara Kingsolver, author of The Poisonwood Bible (and 14 other books) is quoted as saying, “Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say.  It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.”

This is a tough one—I think every writer (including the famous ones) have had this seed of doubt creep into their minds.  I read blogs.  I listen to podcasts.  Some articles or episodes are more valuable than others, some more entertaining than others.  What I have realized is that not every sentence (or blog post) needs to be groundbreaking, life-changing brilliance.  In fact, by committing to be a “writer” I will commit many “sins of commission,” but again, it is better to have written the wrong word than to have not written at all. 

There are other lies I’ve told myself…but those are topics for another post.