I am a writer. I write. On this blog. On children’s books. On the short story book that I am publishing next month. On a romance/suspense novella that I started last November during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I write so I consider myself a writer.
I say this because some people believe that you are not a writer unless you have been published by a big book publishing company. I would love to have that happen, but it hasn’t happened yet. That doesn’t mean that I should wait to refer to myself as a writer; that doesn’t mean that my work is more or less important; that doesn’t mean that I am good or not…it simply means that it hasn’t happened YET.
My first book “What Makes a Good Teacher?” is self published. My second book “Stories After Dark” will also be self published next month. I have the mind set that if something isn’t working, then get it done yourself. I couldn’t find a publisher for my first book, so I did it myself. There is no shame in that. If anything, it is both freeing and shedding.
I will explain. It is freeing because it makes me feel proud that I didn’t just put the story or stories on my shelf, but instead I did something about it. I felt like what I wrote needed to be shared. It is shedding because self publishing or any publishing means that your heart, your sweat, your everything is right out there for everyone to read, to judge, to comment on. It sheds everything away and you are bare; you are completely vulnerable. That is a hard place to be…for anyone I would imagine.
So please, if you know someone that paints or takes beautiful pictures then they are a photographer or an artist. They might not have been discovered yet, but that wouldn’t change their art. I am a writer. I am not the best. I will never be the best. But I will always strive to be better than I was the day before.