I’ve never considered myself a writer.
I suppose I shouldn’t say never. I’m certain there was at least some small amount of time in my teenage years I did. The time between when I left fanfiction and came back to it, and wrote a lot of short stories, angsty poetry, and one-acts plays. I know a goal of mine for a huge chunk of my life since puberty has been to have something published–and respectably so. I was never partial as to what. Photography, fiction, research; it didn’t matter what, I just wanted to be published in some way that meant my work was deemed by somebody else to be worthwhile, and for an audience that included more than the others being published, and my friends and family. I still do.
But I’ve never considered myself a writer in the sense that I wanted it to be my career.
Billy says I am a writer, by the simple definition that I write, so I am a writer. Which is funny, since I consider *him* a writer as that *has* been his career goal for his entire life, even though I produce far more words at a far greater rate than he does. But whether I am a writer by practice or not, it’s not my chosen career. It’s a hobby. It’s one I enjoy a great deal. I don’t know if I’m good at it or not. Sometimes I think I am. Most of the time I think I’m just okay. Given the only writing I have available for the critique of others is fanfic which has a limited audience, I don’t know. I’m far from the most popular writer in my fandom, and while I get good reviews, they are few, and mostly from people I know.
Except, there is a story. One story. One I thought of years ago, that I want to tell. I want to write it, and for people to read it. At first it was a dream–literally. This story came from a dream. Then it was something I thought I would write for NaNoWriMo, thinking if Billy and I were writing together it would motivate him to start producing words until he caught enough momentum to do it without my help. Then it became an unfinished work I might pick back up in a future NaNo just to see how far 50k would get me.
But lately, I want it to be real.
And lately, the time to write as much as a grocery list is difficult to come by.
I want to do NaNo this year. Not for this story, maybe not even for 50k. I want to make November 30th my deadline for finishing The Successor, and the couple of off-shoots for it I’ve got in my head. I want to finish the story I started for Jana as a gift-fic last spring. I want to write and post blog entries I’ve been writing in my head for the last year (and in doing so, maybe start writing blog entries with some consistency).
And then, I want to start on this piece of original fiction. Maybe it will be the thing I publish. Maybe I’ll print a few copies from lulu.com so my mom can have a book on her bookshelf with my name on it.
Maybe I want to write it just to prove I’m not a writer.
I just know it needs to be written.