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It may sound simple. Something kids announce in 4th grade when asked what they want to be when they grow up. But for so long I didn't know what I wanted to be. Or do. Or feel.
Doing peer counseling taught me how to feel. Writing then gave me the ability to convey those feelings and get them out of my body and onto the page.
Who am I kidding? I don't want to be a writer, I am a writer. I love to write. I love being able to project what I see into words on the page, like the old dot-matrix print outs of ascii characters formed into graphics of birds, flowers or a wave.
I love being able to assemble, dismantle and then re-assemble my thoughts on the screen like a child playing with Lego blocks crafting their imagination into reality. I gleefully build them into any configuration of a story I like, each individual element essential to the whole. Each syllable important to the context or overall tone.
I love finding the right words and phrases to clearly articulate my vision. To me a piece of writing works if it reads like lyrics but also a poem. I'm in my happy place getting lost in my story's flow and rhythm, feeling the staccato beat of sentences telegraphing my subtext's intention.
I don't give myself credit for being a writer - even after publishing a book I still doubt my calling. "That's a career for people smarter than me. With more to say and actual training!" I protest, as I squirm and look away whenever anyone calls me out on my refusal to accept my title. But I am a writer, whether anyone reads my words or I just write them for me.
Writing has helped me find and reassemble my lost parts of self. It helped me understand my own character motivation and back story. It filled in the blanks when I didn't know what I was missing and gave a conduit for the voices in my head to be freed.
I am a writer, I always have been. What I want now is to practice giving myself permission to let my writing be seen.
Photo credit: Ian Parberry and can be found at https://ianparberry.com/art/ascii/shader/
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