Am I a Writer?
Last week each blog post was a struggle of some sort. Each was a struggle to write, a struggle to organize, a struggle to publish. It was kind of weird, to be honest.
The pattern seems to want to repeat this week, too.
I see all the ways in which I’m not “really a writer”. I’m not paid to do it. I don’t have a large blog readership. I’m still finding my voice in some ways. I haven’t completed a novel manuscript outside of NaNoWriMo. I’m not the most disciplined. I find it hard to get up early to write, and I can easily go a day or two without working on something.
I still wonder if this is what God wants me to be doing at times.
I wonder if I’m fooling myself in some way, putting on another mask, another label.
Yet . . .
. . . I’m not paid to write this blog, yet I update it regularly. . . . I don’t have a large readership, but I have a readership. . . . I’m working to find my voice and to build upon what is already there. . . . I have participated in NaNoWriMo since 2002. . . . I write in fits ‘n’ starts, yes, but I’m writing quasi-regularly. . . . I take awhile to get going, but when I do, I can lose track of time while writing. And sometimes I simply need a break, a chance to refresh and refuel.
All this happens while I wonder if I’m on the right track, because even as I wrestle and question and wonder, I still sit down and write.
In a way, I cannot ‘not’ write.
I am a writer (even when the feelings or assurances are not there).
I I am I am a I am a writer.
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