Who Are You? And, Why Do You Write?

The summer months are full of extended family gatherings. This year we are celebrating many things: the arrival of our second grandbaby, the engagement of our niece, the departure of my hubby’s brother and wife (moving to Singapore for two years), and a bridal shower for my hubby’s cousin (even though we are not invited to the wedding). Where am I going with all this family information?

With family gatherings come rapid-fire questions about how my writing career is going. Typical questions are something like this: 

•  “Are you still trying to do that writing thing?”
• “Where is this book I keep hearing about?”
• “Why isn’t your book done yet?”
• “What’s taking so long?”

These questions are often followed by examples of so-and-so publishing their 27th novel this month, and they write three books a year. So, why is my book, which I have been working on for what seems like 100 years, taking so long to write and publish? There is an instant sense of dread or shame. I should stop calling myself a writer and instead watch some movies on Prime or Netflix like everyone else.

I sigh. Honestly, I’m speechless. Do I want to talk with non-writers about why the writing and publishing process takes so long? I could just give an easy answer like: “I’ve quit writing, so let’s hear what you’re watching on television this week instead.” It would definitely stop the questions, but I give a quick, “Yes, I’m still a writer. Writing is hard. I’m working on it, and you’ll be the first to know if I have any updates.” 

What I really want to say is…that making a successful career out of being a creative person is difficult. Honestly, it probably will never happen for me, and I will probably die trying to make my dreams come true. But I will never stop trying to make it happen. It is a surefire way to never conquer my dream if I stop trying.

So, this year, on my way to making my dream come true, I decided to step outside my comfort zone and try THREE new things. This means I applied to a few writing retreats and residencies.

One: I will be heading on a solo writing trip to an isolated island in Haliburton (Halls Island Artists Residency) for almost two weeks this summer. I will be alone with my pens, colourful legal-sized writing pads of paper, and my laptop. I have two posts you can read about this pre-trip here, and I will give a full report when I return in September: 

• A Writer’s Dream: An Island of Uninterrupted Time – January 24, 2022
• How to Plan a Productive Solo Writing Retreat – May 23, 2022

Two: I will be using a third week of vacation to stay in a different location in Haliburton in a tiny log cabin along the Drag River with another writer friend. It is perfect for a week of writing and “writerly” discussions. I have never taken so much time away from my career job in my entire 34+ years of working there. It is going to be an epic adventure.

Three: I submitted an application and was accepted into an International Writing Retreat called “Journey to Jupiter” in Pennsylvania this fall. It is a 10-hour road trip to get there. The fun thing is that I get to spend time with nineteen other writers (only one that I have met in person). The scary thing is that there is lots of reading and writing homework before I get there. This weekend, I’m filling out a three-page essay on who I am and why I write. They also want to know what my writing struggles are and how they, as a group, might help me out. This is all fascinating, but I’ve been stuck on these questions for several weeks.

Who are you?

Should I just tell them to ask my family members? They have all the answers. Ha! I’m a useless loser who pretends to be a writer and takes one hundred years to write a worthwhile novel they can read.

I rarely tell people the whole truth about who I am, nor do I think they need to know. Should I mention other things I love to do but kind of suck at? Did you know I was a lifeguard and could swim like a fish? Did you know I’m a borderline senior citizen who participates in boxing and lifts heavy weights for fun? Did you know I paint canoe paddles and chunks of canvas that raise money for art programs? Did you know I learned how to skate at 40 and still play hockey a decade and a half later? I learned how to ride a motorcycle at the age of 52. I have made quilts from scrap material since I was 12. Did you know I’m scared of heights and terrified of slithering reptiles? These things are exciting and part of who I am, but they have nothing to do with being a writer.

Just admitting to strangers that I am a writer is a big step for me, but knowing that nineteen people will read about who I am and judge me before they even meet me is alarming to me.

Who am I, really? What would they want to know? What would they need to know? I thought I could send my quick bio paragraph, but they could find that online if they bothered to do an Internet search. I have to be more in-depth than that. So, how do you tell strangers who you are, without coming across as a conceited asshat or a wimpy woman who over-shares about crying after being rejected while devouring a tub of Chapman’s Premium Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup ice cream?

Dilemmas. Dilemmas.

Typically when I meet new people, I downplay my writing talents and start by telling them what I do professionally because that is how I make money to pay my bills. Then, I casually mention that I write in my spare time when I’m not working or doing the whole taking care of my family thing. I call it my “side gig.” The funny part is most people don’t give a shit what I do professionally. They want to know more about what I’m writing. They want details. This is where I often hold back the detailed information.

I blurt out that I don’t have a novel published yet, but I do have a few articles, short stories, and flash pieces published. I usually follow that up with a joke about the $1.30 royalty e-payment deposit I received in July. Then, I might break into the explanation that these published stories might be classified as Women’s Fiction circling around dysfunctional family relationships instead of the mysterious crime fiction novel I am currently working on.

Things I would love to mention but don’t are the strangers who send me kind messages about how my stories make them laugh or how they say it ripped out their hearts a little while they read it. I love hearing how someone felt a genuine emotion while reading my words. But I don’t tell my family this either. I might whisper it to my writing friends. This motivates me to keep going, knowing I could move someone to laughter or tears with something I have created out of nothing. This is what matters to me. 

Why Do You Write?

In my heart, I write because:

• I want to give a voice to the victims who want to fight back but can’t. 
• I want to give the readers a moral dilemma and have them decide whether they agree with me or not. 
• I want readers to have conversations about the words that I write. 
• I want people to think outside the box. 
• I want people to be emotionally invested and connected to my words. 
• I want my stories to provide some enjoyment or escapism for people.
• I want to write complex stories that allow people to challenge their sense of right and wrong and wonder what they would do in a similar situation. 
• I want their human emotions to evoke compassion, moral outrage, indignation, and question whether justice was served or not. 
• I want to touch on real-world issues and explore the complex characters that are both good and bad. 
• I want to introduce readers to people who struggle with decisions, who sometimes make bad decisions that make everything worse for everyone involved.
• I want to learn and grow as a writer, increasing my creativity, skills, knowledge, and experience.
• I want to prove to my parents that scraping enough money together to buy me an electric typewriter for my 10th Christmas was not the worst idea they ever had. I believed I could write stories with interesting characters like Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and Encyclopedia Brown. Secret truth: I finished my first novel at the age of 16. It was hilarious and complete crap. My parents told me to try again, but I left it behind when I went to college because my teachers and guidance counselor said I couldn’t make money by writing. People wouldn’t respect me in a man’s world. That advice still rattles around in my brain. It makes me sad. Furious, actually.

In the end:

So, I should try to be more confident and take some pride in what I’m doing in my spare time, even though the creative “side gig” doesn’t make me enough money to buy a full cup of coffee.

We writers should plug ourselves more often, even though we feel weird about it. I think it is common knowledge to writers that we’ll never make big money by writing. Okay, maybe there is a slim chance. However, the outside world thinks the opposite. Write a book. Publish it. Make millions. I wish. If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it.

I will continue to strive for fame and fortune, but statistics show it will be unlikely for it to happen to me. So, when I think about that, I feel sad for a bit, hiding my feelings in a tub of Chapman’s Cookies and Cream frozen yogurt (slightly healthier than the premium ice cream), crying because I feel like a loser, and promising myself that I will try harder tomorrow.

For the next two months, I will avoid all extended family gatherings and concentrate on who I am as a writer and why I write what I do. I will enjoy working on my “side gig” during my solo trip to the island. Hopefully, I come home with a new draft that I can spend the next six months (or another one hundred years) editing. 

What about you? How would you introduce yourself to strangers who are curious to know something about you? Who are you? And, why do you write?