
How do you know if you’re meant to be a writer? It’s really a valid question. Lord knows I’ve asked of myself enough times.
But really, how do you know? For me there have been points of clarity mixed with occasional thwacks upside the head to remind me. The first big point of clarity came in high school when I knew writing for the newspaper and getting nonfiction published in a national magazine wasn’t enough. I didn’t want just a byline, I wanted to create stories that were something no one else could do, that were out of my own creativity rather than reporting.
The second point of clarity came when I started a Writer’s Digest course and got my first smackdown from a wise teacher who told me my first novel had way too many plots going at once and I needed to pare it down to one single story to focus on. I was crushed, but she was right.
The third point of clarity came when my mother passed away at 52 from breast cancer. She was an inspiration, a person who really made everyone around her strive to live their dreams, and a natural storyteller. But she also taught be something I’ll never forget – if you don’t tell the stories, they stayed locked inside. No one can share them but you. If you leave this world without sharing those stories, those stories leave with you, never to be read. I can’t go there. Frankly there’s barely enough room in my head for what has to be there day in and day out, let alone to store a bunch of stories that’ll never be told. I’ve got to clean it out by getting those stories down on paper.
My fourth point of clarity came with the American Title contest, when I was cut after making it through a few rounds. Boy did I think about quitting. I already had a successful public relations agency, why did I need the grief? I was going to purge my office of writing. Yeah, right. That lasted half an hour. Then I realized I was still going to have stories in my head. I was still going to have to find some way of releasing them to keep myself sane and happy. Writing was cheaper than therapy, and it also meant I got to keep my non-writer friends who wouldn’t be bombarded by yet another untold tale of mine.
The latest thwack upside the head to remind me what I am came just last school year in a high school chemistry class. I know you’re likely wondering what the heck I was doing there. I was substituting. I do that too. I realized that as much as like teaching, I really, really am a writer. It’s telling the story that gets me going, especially when you can see how the story is unfolding for each individual. It’s that chemistry between writer and reader that makes writing addictive. Writers crave readers. We’re not shy about that.
So how do you know if you are meant to be a writer? Really the litmus test is easier than you think (and pardon me if it begins to sound a bit like you might be a redneck . . .)
If you occasionally hear voices in your head, that aren’t your own. And they’re arguing over something, you might be a writer.
If bits of paper seem to find there way into everything you own, because you’ve got ideas you’ll jot down on any old scrap you can find when it hits, you might be a writer.
If your bookshelves are nearly busting out and have overflowed on to various surfaces in your home because you are easily fascinated by all manner of ideas and have to know more, you might be a writer. (maybe you just don’t know it yet.)
If the smell of books is kind of addictive to you, you might be a writer.
If you’d rather sit on your butt and type for three hours a day or more, because you have to, rather than because you want to, even though there are dust rhinos cavorting in your dining room and under your furniture, you might be a writer.
If you look at a billboard, magazine ad or other such thing, and immediately think what that person might be like, and starting spinning ideas around of who they are, what they want and what might happen if they…., well, you know I’m going to tell you, you might be a writer.
If you’ve got pages already written, on a book that will never be seen by human eyes, you my friend, might be a writer.
And, if the idea of not writing another day in your life leaves you thinking, what the heck would I do, then you might be a writer.
Now if you’re a writer, and you’ve only just discovered this amazing fact, let me share with you three bits of advice that I’ve consistently heard from every New York Times Bestseller I’ve ever had the fortune to strike up a conversation with (which is quite a few).
1. Finish the book. No one will buy a book until you’ve written it. So starting a book is important, yes, but finishing it is a necessity.
2. Perseverance makes the difference between published and unpublished.
3. Start writing the next book. Careers in publishing are usually built on one book after another, after another. If you’ve got one book it you, chances are you’ve got another too. So keep writing!