There are days when I feel like such an artist. I feel like I’m the most interesting person on the planet and that anyone who comes across my work will impressed. These are days that I feel like I am a writer, a woman that has a way with words and a way with people. These days are few.
Many times I can sit around for hours and even days, and still not have any idea about what I want the world to know. If I say too little, it will be hard to see the value in my work, but if I say too much, someone will probably get bored and not care. I wonder if it really matters whether I say too little or too much, because in the end, both turn people away. Maybe that means my writing is only meant for people that care, and not everyone does. But just not everyone enjoys writing, the same goes for the readers, so can I really blame them?
I think I have turned away from the idea of who is a writer and who is not because truly, everyone is, there are just different degrees as to how much a person is invested. I don’t define myself as a writer, just as a person with interesting thoughts from time to time.
So I guess that goes to say that it is not worth beating myself up over who acknowledges me as a true writer because as long as I have substance to put down on paper or in some other form, I am a participant in this writing world.