You lose track of time when you’re writing, light up when you’re finding just the right words to convey an idea, and feel more energized after a writing session than when you started.
An outside observer would have long ago said something to the effect of, “Gosh, you really are a writer, aren’t you?”
But not you.
You’re still waiting for some sign, permission, or external proof that you have the right to call yourself a writer.
Like, “I’ll be a writer when I . . .”
reach ten-thousand followers on Twitter.
publish a book.
quit my job to write full time.
But guess what?
You’re not going to feel more worthy to call yourself a “writer” when any of those things finally happen.
I recently braved the icy stairs of a friend’s home to attend a holiday dinner party. All the elements of a typical social gathering fell quickly into place. Hellos and hugs, a glass of Cabernet placed in my hand, quick intros to a few folks I’d never met, and then the status question.
“So Rick, what do you do?”
My life as a professional speaker had been recently decimated by a two-year event-industry shutdown in response to the pandemic. What I’ve been primarily doing in the last two years is writing. But I’ve always written. In truth, 95% of how I prepare to succeed as a professional speaker is accomplished by writing.
And yet, I watched myself betray my beloved activity of writing with my standard automatic response, “I’m a speaker,” the way someone who is happily married to a leper might claim to be single.
After 5 published books, hundreds of published articles, and more than a thousand blog posts — I’ll still resort to the “speaker” label before I’d call myself a “writer.”
The fact is, I spend way more time on the activity of writing than on anything else. Even so, it’s not what I’ve already written that makes me a writer. And it’s not what you’ve already written that will make you a writer, either.
It’s how much more you feel there is to share, to explore, and to risk with words — growing in your belly like a kind of literary pregnancy — that makes you a writer. When the constant whisper of what hasn’t yet been written, of what no one has dared or thought to write won’t leave you alone—that’s how you know you’re a writer.
When you’re stalked by untold stories and new ideas and tempted to make note of them in the midst of a romantic moment, while parenting your children, or on a treadmill at the gym — that’s how you know you’re a writer.
Perhaps you’ve abandoned a shower and left puddles down the middle of a hallway or pulled yourself out of bed in the hush of the night to capture an inspired idea.
If someone would just cover your rent, do your laundry, and feed you, you’d write 24/7 for free.
That’s what makes you a writer.
And even if you make most of your money right now as a psychologist, entrepreneur, engineer, artist, content creator, leader, or sales professional — writing is where your heart is.
So what stops you from saying, “I’m a writer!” with confidence? Is it that you don’t feel you’ve earned enough money directly by writing? Or does it feel vague and unimpressive to call yourself a writer instead of something that sounds more essential? Is being a writer an anti-status symbol, synonymous with one who struggles rather than succeeds?
All those factors may play a role, but I think the real reason you and I both hesitate is something else.
If you’re like me, the idea of admitting you’re a writer is scary, because then your essence is fully exposed. It would be like answering the question, What do you do? by saying, “I’m myself.” And in the moment of owning that you’re a writer, you raise your hand for the next phase of the journey.
Living as a writer and fully being yourself.
The moment you admit you’re a writer is the moment you have to start living with greater visibility, transparency, and courage.
Living as a writer means saying yes to telling your story. Your real story, by putting all of yourself into your words; where every strength, eccentricity, neurosis, thought, emotion, tick, kindness, soft spot, mistake, triumph, dream, and fear is put on the table and becomes fair game for sharing.
Because your real story is the human story, and the human story must be told.
That’s why you’ll need all of you if you’re going to reach people and make a difference, and if writing is going to deliver its treasure to you so you can then pass it along to others.
Whether you’re portraying a character or sharing your personal self — you’ll only move, inspire, uplift, educate, and connect with others if you’ve done the courageous work of being fully human.
Living as a writer is about the presence and life experience you bring to your words, not whether your words bring you a traditional paycheck.
There are 3 things I’m on a mission to help you do as a writer.
Own that you’re already a writer.
Live the real you with courage.
And share the real you with authenticity.
Do those things and there’s no subject in the world you won’t be able to bring to life with the spark of your humanity and the ring of truth that will be in your words.
Because those words will be coming from the real you.
I’m convinced that more writers sharing themselves with self-honesty, authenticity, and clarity is exactly what we all need right now.
I see a future where personal storytelling remains more compelling than anything AI will ever produce. But that can’t happen as long as we’re imitating robots—hiding who we really are to make a profit, look good, or trading opinions on things we’ve never experienced.
Let’s tell some stories about who we really are — humans who are committed to being fully alive and sharing it.
Also known as writers.
Then we can get to work inspiring authenticity and courage in others by modeling it ourselves.
“Own that you’re already a writer” – Rick Lewis! My new mantra when the inner critics circle around me and spit doubts at me when I sit at my desk and the words cannot form in my mind, “Jenny, you are already a writer. Own this identity. You don’t need to prove anything to those inner critics because you’re already a writer!” Thank you, Rick!❣❣❣❣
“It would be like answering the question, What do you do? by saying, “I’m myself.”” -- brilliantly put. :)