When Is It Time To Consider Yourself A “Real Writer”?
It seems a lot of us writers have a tough time coming to grips with the idea that we are, indeed, writers. It’s a touchy subject, this whole who-is-a-writer business. It’s funny, I’ve always been very comfortable calling myself a writer, because I’ve made my living as one for more than 20 years. But there’s an important distinction that makes it easy for me. I’m a “freelance writer,” which denotes work for hire. All those years, I have written mostly non-fiction and mostly about health-related topics. I have also worn an editor’s hat for most of that time. So, I can speak with authority that non-fiction writing takes a certain amount of writerly skill and expertise.
Being a creative writer, a fiction writer, a writer of novels, is something else entirely. And, while being comfortable with any form of the written word helps, it’s only a part of the recipe for being a good writer. To simply say, “I’m a writer” connotes creativity.
At the start of my quest to become a “real writer,” I signed up for an online writing class, thinking it would be good for me to see what others were doing and to get feedback, instead of just having my words rattling around in my own head. I had long since learned that part of being a writer of any kind was developing the thick skin of an armadillo and the wonderful ability to curl up in a ball when input from editors and critiquers got to be too much. Those skills came in handy for this class.
Only two people signed up—me and one other writer. Turned out she was the editor of a literary publication and was well published. The instructor of the class was also a published author, taught at several well-known writers’ conferences, and developed the online instruction module for the class. And then, there was me.
So, picture this: You’re timidly dipping your toes in the fiction-writing waters, hoping no one is watching too closely. And then your “classmate” dives in head first right next to you and starts swimming laps around you at record speed. The coach starts cheering and handing out medals. Not to you, but to your classmate. Yet, week after week you’re asked to stand on the edge of the pool and dip your toes in yet again, and watch as your classmate swims laps around you.
Well, that’s what the class was like for me. The instructor went positively orgasmic over the other participant’s work, complete with over-the-top praise and exclamation marks! I received what you could call barely contained disdain disguised as “constructive criticism.”
Which brings me back to the “who is a writer” question. The instructor had a very clear literary bent. A low tolerance for popular fiction, which is where my aspirations lie. There’s a truckload of literary snobbery out there, even as popular fiction becomes, well, more popular. In the class, we were given weekly assignments turned in online. One seemed to go against every piece of popular fiction I had ever read. So, in a very diplomatic manner, I sent a passage from a current New York Times bestseller, asking what she thought of it. Her response was something to the effect that much of the popular literature out there doesn’t deserve to be published. End of discussion. That’s when I realized I had signed up for the wrong class.
In all fairness, I learned a lot from that class. But I also realized that we writers are an eclectic bunch. Could this year’s Pulitzer Prize winner write a winning Middle Grade or Young Adult novel? Somehow, I think not. Have you every read “Frindle” by Andrew Clements? It was a favorite of my kids when they were small. I don’t think it would live up to my instructor’s literary standards, but no one could ever convince me that it wasn’t worthy of publication. I’m not a fan of John Steinbeck, but go ga-ga over Edgar Allen Poe. Does my taste in literature make either of them bad writers? I think not.
In Hollywood, an actor who has screen presence is said to have the “it” factor. You see them on screen and you just know. The same is true for good writers. You can’t really break it down, imitate it, teach it. It’s an elusive essence that just is. But some actors do well only in comedies, some only in romantic comedies, some can’t seem to fake being scared on screen. Does that make them any less an actor? Less versatile, perhaps, but no less an actor.
Around the time the class was wrapping up, my writer’s ego in tatters, I found the encouragement I was looking for in a blog post by Seanan Macquire, author of “Feed,” writing as Mira Grant. She writes young adult, urban fantasy, modern horror and the occasional romantic comedy. She said she’s been asked when she was going to stop writing what’s “hot” and become a real writer and start writing what was in her heart. Her response spoke to me.
“You know what? My heart is full of fairy tales and zombies and blond girls in high heels kicking monsters in the head. My heart is full of snappy dialogue and cinematic tropes and screams in the muggy summer air. I am a real writer. It’s just that what I really want to write about is occasionally the Fighting Pumpkins cheer squad, a hitchhiking ghost with a thing for cheeseburgers, and genetically engineered parasites. And that’s okay.”
So there you have it. Whether it’s bittersweet romance, erotica, mystery, horror, fantasy, paranormal, epic family drama or the great American novel, if it’s what grabs you and won’t let go, then write. There’s room for a lot more of us on bookshelves and Kindle libraries than some literary critics would have you believe.
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My essay was first posted on Amy Sue Nathan’s Women’s Fiction Writers blog back in 2015 (thank you, Amy!), shortly after my debut novel, “You’ll Be Thinking of Me” was released. I’ve posted it every year since then as a morale booster for myself and anyone else who stumbled across it. Since 2015, I’ve had a second novel, “Le Remede” published and I’m working on revisions to a third novel, tentatively titled, “The Opposite of Amnesia.” They are, in order, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and women’s fiction. I’m writing what’s in my heart and inching closer to considering myself “a real writer.”
Find out more about her on her website http://densiewebb.com/
Le Remède, Densie Webb
Andie Rogé craves control like some people crave chocolate. But she can’t control her feelings when she encounters Vincent Dubois at Lizzie Borden’s Bar.
Tortured by blood lust that has ruled him for almost two hundred years, Vincent is unprepared for the pull he feels toward Andie. He can only surrender to what he knows is fate.
Offered a cure from a rare black orchid, he faces an agonizing choice—take the only dose and join Andie in the human life he so deeply desires or give the cure to his Kindred brother to stop his bloody rampage. Fate brought them together but will it destroy their chance at a future?
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I loved your article. I, too, spent most of my adult life as a writer. In my case it was environmental journalism. In retirement, I chose fiction and memoir. Do you know how many college professors in English departments think that journalists can’t write a decent English sentence? Ha!