
I am a Writer
I said if for the first time recently. It was actually in a fairly heated email exchange. I was trying to explain to my friend why my Facebook page was suddenly flooded with mentions of my blog and other stuff I’m working on. Typing fervently on autopilot I said “Maggie, I am a writer! That is what I do and it just happens that lately I’ve had more opportunities and I’ve wanted to share that…. !
Reading back before hitting the Send button I was shocked at that phrase. “I am a writer” I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. I’ve been wanting to for so long. But there’s a voice in my head, telling me how presumptuous I am to even think it.
When I meet new people I introduce myself in terms of my work, my husband and my faith. I never put ‘writer’ into that initial summary of who I am. Eventually talk of my blog will come out, or I’ll start to talk about my MA studies and what I hope to do afterwards. Once someone actually said…
“You’re not Annmarie Miles who writes for Vox are you?”
Yes that’s me… quite happy for you to say it, but I couldn’t possibly…
So who decides when a bloggette, a woman with a head full of stories, a gal who can run you up a song as quick as a sandwich, a complicated missis with the desire to make folk laugh but not be laughed at…. who decides when she can call herself a writer?
Maybe I can give myself permission to say it out loud. I just need to practise saying it in the mirror. I need to get used to the sound of my own voice uttering those words.
YES! I. AM. A. WRITER!
