I realized late last night that I am much more comfortable labeling myself as a “student/writer” than just a writer. I would say that I’m an “aspiring writer” but honestly I’m not aspiring to be my definition of a writer. I’ve kind of already loosened it and defined it as what I’m doing right now. Still, I’ll always be a “something/writer” until I:
- only make my money from published writing (in which case I’d be an “author”) OR
- am homeless and have nothing to offer the world but my scribbling.
If I can call my possibly homeless future self a writer simply by virtue of his desire/ability to write, I can probably call myself one now.
Side note: I feel a little weird implying that I must be labeled something. Perhaps it’d be more artful if I rejected the labels and asserted that writing is indeed a part of me, like a manifestation of my soul. But I find that too dramatic and, frankly, untrue. My writing, as personal as it may be, is never a natural reflection of myself; it is a deliberate transcription. And though I’ve taken up the task with care, I was not born a scribe. Crush my hands and I will no longer write. I could still describe what I would write to someone else orally, but that is because, first and foremost, I was born a thinker.
This is not my mind.
This is a faulty photograph.
——————————————————-
Gah. I need to stop thinking about this crap.
