I know. I know you don’t waaah-NUH.

Photo by Vicky Lorencen

But it’s time, my sweetness.

It is time.

Come, let me take your hand. (Wow. That is cold. We’ll talk about your circulation issues later.) We both know what needs to happen, and I’m here to help you do it.

Take a deep breath and repeat after me: “I am a writer.”

I can’t hear you, my little petunia. Try a-gain. Whisper it, if that helps. “I am a writer.”

See? I knew you could say it. (Do your hands always get this clammy?) Now, eat your cookie.

Earlier this summer I was at a conference where I met dozens of new writer kin and what ghasted my flabber was that several of these real writers (not dabblers or sometimers–the actual writing writer variety–with an agent no less!) were reluctant to call themselves a writer.

Now, I know the reasons for this reluctance are legion . . .

• I’m “pre-published,” so I feel like an imposter. Writers are people who write. Authors are writers who are published. If you write novels/picture books/articles/manuscripts or copy of any kind, you, my darlin’, are a writer. If you’ve spent years thinking about/intending to/wanting to but never really writing, then sorry, you’re probably right not to call yourself a writer. You’re more of a writer in waiting. And that’s okay too.
• I want to avoid the inevitable questions/unwelcome comments/unsolicited advice. You don’t want to be asked, “Where can I buy your book?” (if you don’t have one yet or it’s gone out of print). You don’t want to hear, “You’re going to be rich and famous! You’re going to be the next Harry . . .” you know the rest. Don’t deny who you are because you’re shy about silly, innocent, well-meaning questions or comments. Those will morph over time, but they won’t go away. Learn to nod and smile. You’re cool. You can handle this.
• I don’t want the pressure. You know what? Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Instead of pressure, maybe let’s think of it as motivation. Show the world you’re for reals.
• I’m not worthy of the title. Do you need a hard pinch? Stop that silliness right now. You love words. You care about craft. You’re willing to spend hours in isolation to revise and polish. You seek feedback. You take risks. You spend dollars you could devote to shoe-shopping so you can go to workshops to improve your skills. Heck, if you work any harder, you’re going to be OVER-worthy. You can wear the title of writer with pride. You’re stone cold legit.
• I’m afraid I’ll be asked to perform an emergency tracheotomy. No, no, lamb chop. That’s what might happen if you say you’re a doctor. Stick with writer. No incisions needed.

You recognize your reluctance. Now, acknowledge your fear. Then do the right thing anyway. Come on out. Say it loud and proud–I am a WRITER!

Enjoy that feeling of empowerment. Your bravery will be rewarded. And, yes, of course, you can have a cookie.

The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong. ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

Phtot by Vicky Lorencen

Back in the day, I had the joy of teaching an introductory writing course. My classes were primarily filled with young adults who were brand new to college. And it wasn’t unusual for a student to tell me he was the first in his family to extend his education beyond high school. Knowing this, I felt a particular obligation to make sure my students had a strong start to their academic careers. And so, I would begin the semester by revealing my secrets for scholarly success (aside from the obvious–stellar study and organizational skills, and an ample snack stockpile).

Recently, it occurred to me these secrets may be applicable to you as well, my writing friends. (Shazam!) Since you’re the bees knees and the cat’s pajamas, I want to pass along these secrets, which I guess, won’t exactly make them secrets any more. Let’s call them my Top Two Tips of All Time. Catchy, huh?

Here we go . . .

1. Show up. Sounds obvious, but you’d be gobsmacked how many otherwise capable people stumble on this very step.

2. Ask questions. Maybe I’m making too much of this, but I see the ability to speak up and ask questions as a sign of self-respect. By asking for the information you need, you’re saying, I matter.

Let’s break this down a bit. How would a writer apply these two simple tips? Let me suggest the ways . . .

Show up . . .

For deadlines.

For writing time.

For your writing friends.

For your agent and editor.

For conferences and workshops.

Ask questions . . .

For me, that’s how most writing projects begin. I start with a character or concept and begin asking questions. Then, I draft character sketches and ask my characters questions.

When an opportunity presents itself, grill yourself with questions–Is this right for me? Is now the right time? What is motivating me to say yes? (desperation?) or no? (fear?) What do I need to ask before I can make an intelligent decision? What will this opportunity require of me? What will I gain? What will I have to give up? How will it benefit me or others?

Sometimes, this includes asking for help–I’m feeling stuck. Would you read my manuscript and give me your honest feedback? I’m feeling lonely and/or depressed, can we talk? I’m thinking of taking a class, what would you recommend? Can you tell me how to do school visits? Could you tell me where you keep your emergency supply of chocolate?

Other times, this may include asking if you can help someone else–Would you like to join our critique group? Would you like a beta reader? You seem a little down. How can I encourage you today? Who said you could break into my emergency supply of chocolate?

Thinking about your writing path–what should my next step be? Is this manuscript ready to send out? How can I know for sure? Should I query agents? How do I know who’s a good fit for me? Is it time to try a new genre? Why haven’t I won the Newbery yet?

There you have it!

Did I forget any? (See what I did there? Of course you did.)

Asking the right questions takes as much skill as giving the right answers. ~ Robert Half

Photo by Vicky Lorencen

In the spirit of Independence Day, I present to you [cue the fife and drum please] . . .

A Writer’s Bill of Rights

You have the right to observe, but not follow trends.

You have the right to seek a second opinion.

You have the right to ask, “What if?”

You have the right to laugh at your own writing. Hey, if you’re funny, you’re funny.

You have the right to leave your beloved critique group if it’s no longer serving its purpose.

You have the right to say no when a friend of a friend asks for feedback on her 1,000-word non-fiction picture book about the history of toe jam.

You have the right not to feel guilty if someone asks for your honest opinion and doesn’t like your response (assuming you delivered the news graciously).

You have the right to try a new genre.

You have the right to read reviews, even if everyone advises against it. (And you have the right to admit it when everyone was right.)

You have the right to think a certain author or book (or movie based on that book) is lame, even if everyone else thinks it’s the greatest thing since WiFi.

You have the right to love a certain author or book even if no one else does.

You have the right to prefer printed books to e-books (or vice versa).

You have a right to take a break from writing (or the pursuit of publication) if you need to. Plus, you have the right to not feel guilty about it.

You have the right to scrap the whole darn thing and start over.

You have the right not to participate in every form of social or digital media imaginable simply for the purpose of following the crowd.

You have the right to be selective and protective of your time.

You have the right to ignore feedback if it does not ring true to you or serve your story.

You have the right to pass on an opportunity because you know it’s not right for you, even if (and especially if) you’re feeling desperate and needy.

Did I miss any rights? If so, you, my friends, have every right to add more.

Now, go exercise your freedom!

I was intelligent enough to make up my own mind. I not only had freedom of choice, I had freedom of expression. ~  Amy Tan