So, you’re “not a writer.”
It’s a strange label to bestow upon yourself, being that it’s rooted in the perceived absence of something rather than its presence. I wonder how you came by it.
Maybe you were told by someone in your past that you’re “not a writer.” Maybe it’s something you tell yourself, when the words don’t flow as effortlessly as you think they ought to. Maybe you already write every day, but still believe that “Writer” is a loftier title than you merit―and one which seems nearly as unattainable as “Queen of the Faeries.”
Whatever the reasons, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not a writer. And so, whenever you sit down to write anything―a blog post, a marketing page, a tweet, or even a journal entry―your inner critic pipes up with her favorite refrain: “No one wants to read that. You’re not a writer.”
Well, I’m here to prove you wrong. So tell your inner critic to go lie on a beach somewhere for a while, and allow yourself to receive this message loud and clear:
A writer is someone who writes. Period.
To be a CPA, you need to pass the CPA exam. To be a lawyer, you have to pass the bar. But there’s no standardized test that qualifies a person to be a writer.
The Oxford Dictionary doesn’t define “writer” as a person whose words have been vetted by his or her peers, and found to be interesting. No, the foremost treatise on the English language defines “writer” as simply, A person who has written something or who writes in a particular way; a person who writes books, stories, or articles as a job or occupation.
So, if all we need to do to be writers is write, why do we surround the activity with so much mystique and longing? Why do we tell ourselves we can’t write, when we so obviously can?
I think it’s because writing is scary. It takes our thoughts, ideas, opinions, and dreams, and makes them tangible―and, in some ways, permanent. Deep down, we’re afraid that, if we don’t say things “the right way,” we will be misunderstood, ridiculed, or ignored.
And so, we fall back on the tried-and-true excuse of “I’m not a writer,” while in our hearts we’re yearning to be one of those whose words move the world.
If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. In fact, I feel confident in saying that most writers feel this way, at one time or another.
So why are they writing, when you aren’t? Simple. They stopped overthinking it, and just wrote.
If you’re ready to do the same, read on to learn how to start writing when you don’t see yourself as a writer (yet).
Step 1: Ask yourself, “Why?”
Why do you feel you can’t be a writer? Was it something someone said? Some criticism you received? Chances are, that wound is affecting more than just the words you put on a page―so maybe it’s time to get out your divine toolkit and go to town on that bad boy. Once you take the time to discern exactly why you’re holding back, it’s much easier to take action to overcome the hurdle.
Is your excuse that spelling and grammar aren’t your strong suits? Well, guess what? That’s what editors are for! I know very few writers (if any) who can produce a perfect document without an editor’s eagle eye―so don’t let the fact that you can’t spell “circumlocution” keep you in a cycle of avoidance.
Step 2: Define your goals
(Spoiler alert: not all writers write books!)
Setting sky-high goals when you’re a novice writer (like “I’m going to write my book in 21 days!”) is a recipe for frustration. Yes, some people can do it, but most end up throwing in the towel, and telling themselves―you guessed it―that they’re “just not cut out to be writers.”
Instead, think about your mission, and what you really want to say to the world at large. Don’t worry about how you’ll say it yet; just with your purpose and mission energetically. When you feel fully connected, check in with yourself, and ask, “What is the most effective way I can communicate my ideas right now?” Then, listen for the answer, and act on it. Maybe you are meant to write a book―but your path could also begin with a blog post, an e-mail, or even a journal entry. Let your inner wisdom guide you, and then chunk down your goals into pieces too small for your inner critic to chew on.
Step 3: Practice!
You wouldn’t expect to play Chopin’s Revolutionary Etude the first time you sat down at the piano―or even the tenth, or the hundredth time. You’d expect to practice for years before you could tackle a piece like that with any semblance of grace.
If you were learning to play hockey, you wouldn’t expect to be a star the moment you set foot on the rink. You’d expect falls, bruises, and maybe even a few bloody noses―and it would all be part of the fun.
So how do you expect yourself to be a stellar writer if you’ve never practiced?
Give yourself the latitude you need to get comfortable putting words on a page, and to explore how you relate to language. Take classes. Read writers’ blogs. Play with rhyme and rhythm. Do whatever it takes to get your balance and start building your confidence.
As with any new skill, daily practice is best―but even a few hours here and there will be enough to start getting you connected to your voice. Before you start, imagine your inner critic leaving her desk for some sun and a piña colada. (If she’s a real workaholic, like mine, you might need to hire a mental cabana boy to distract her. But whatever you do, don’t let her convince you to stop practicing!)
It’s my intention that these tips will empower you to stop putting off your writing dreams and start taking steps toward your goals. You have something beautiful and unique to say, and anything that holds you back from saying it is doing you, and the world, a huge disservice.
So go ahead, “not-a-writer”: take a deep breath, set aside your old stories, and become the writer you know you can be!
