I’ve come to a conclusion that puts things in a whole different perspective. It isn’t anything mind blowing, but it’s a subtle concept that feels great when I try it on.
For most of my adult life, I’ve identified myself as a software developer. Even more so now that I can officially call that my job title. It’s what I went to school for (kinda), it’s what I’ve focused most of my energies on the past several years, it’s been me for quite some time.
There’s absolutely no reason I need to keep thinking that if I choose not to. There’s no reason why I can’t redefine myself as the mood suits me, why I can’t look at life and say “You know, this is what I do for a living, but it’s not who I am.” So, who am I?
Today I call myself a writer; that may change tomorrow, or even later today. That part’s irrelevant — why do I even need to “be” anything? The important thing is that I don’t want to be so closely tied to an industry — any industry, really, just programming in particular at the moment – that I don’t give myself the opportunity to try something else, to see what else is out there that I might love to do.
This comes up from a very common and generally harmless question that we all ask others: “So, what do you do?” It’s often one of the first questions you’ll ask someone, or be asked, when you meet them for the first time.
I hate that question.
Not that I don’t have an answer for it — always have. I just don’t like it. It’s very limiting; if I ask you “So, what do you do?” then from that point forth, you are associated with your answer. All your hopes and anxieties, dreams and fears, aspirations and failures are summed up in your response. I’ll never be able to look at you again without thinking “He’s an engineer” or “She’s an administrative assistant.” You are no longer a person; you are a job.
Okay, I might exaggerate somewhat here — you’re still a person. But my perception of you is now tinted; your choice of career will still come through as an identifier the next time I see you.
Unfortunately, that question is often clarified as “So, what do you do for a living?” That’s a terrible version, as it forces the “standard” response — a programmer, for myself. I ask it when I meet someone for the first time too, though I try to avoid that — “Where do you work” is better, as it subtly breaks the relationship between the person and the job.
So, thinking that, how do I want others to think of me? Not as a programmer. Not that I’m ashamed of it — not by any stretch — but it isn’t “me”. There isn’t really any aspect of me that can be summed up with a single response to such a specialized question. I don’t really want to be pigeonholed as a writer, either, but, as that’s where I’m wanting to go with my life at the moment, it’s more appropriate than identifying myself as a programmer.
I’ve come across a rather arrogant train of thought over the past year and a half that I’ve been giving writing a half-way serious effort: “You can’t call yourself a writer because…”
Bollocks, I tell you. (Or bullshit, if you prefer a more Americanized response.)
There is absolutely no reason whatsoever someone can’t call themselves a writer. I’m writing this blog; ergo, I write; ergo, I’m a writer. I’ve written short stories and a novel. I write emails and shopping lists and notes and poems. I am a writer.
Am I a professional writer? No. I pay my bills by developing software. Am I a good writer? That’s entirely up to you; I think so, and most who have told me anything about my writing have said they think so too, but your mileage may vary. Am I even a published writer? Not yet.
I’m still a writer though. Odds are that you are too, if you choose to call yourself that.
For some reason though, there seems to be quite a few people out there who want to put themselves on a pedestal because they’ve accomplished a certain feat. Which is perfectly fine — you worked hard on your MFA/series of novels/articles/short stories; take pride in it. Unfortunately, a lot of people have a bad habit of denigrating the accomplishments of others. “You aren’t a real writer if you don’t have your first book published and your second one ready to go.” “You aren’t a real writer if you don’t have <insert degree or award here>.” “You aren’t a real writer if you haven’t done/don’t do this, that, or the other thing.”
It’s petty and entirely useless — odds are, whatever qualifications someone tells you that you need in order to call yourself a “real writer”, they have those qualifications. Such people should be sterilized and imprisoned. There’s always someone who’s done more, who’s better qualified to be a “real writer” — if you ever start to think otherwise, or find someone who does think otherwise, I have two words for you: Harry Potter. Seriously, if you’re going to start placing requirements on yourself, you might as well set them high: you aren’t a real writer until you’ve created a cultural icon, have movies made (or planned) of all of your books, and have more money coming in from royalties on merchandise alone than the GDP of a small country.
Alas, that I could vent endlessly (and I could), but the time has come to go be a programmer for another eight hours. And to smoke; can’t forget that.
What is a “writer”? To me, it is an honorific that should only be reserved for those who DAILY practice the craft of writing, investing their time, energy and health in an enterprise that will likely amount to little more than anonymity, despair and isolation. I’m not a plumber if I unclog a drain or change a washer on my tap. Someone isn’t a “writer” just because they once wrote a poem or keep an irregular journal. The terms “writer” and “author” confer status because we associate them with great artists and storytellers from down through the ages. They are words that should not be bandied about lightly. My advice to young scribblers: if you wanna claim to be a writer, EARN the title the old-fashioned way, through hard work, dedication and YEARS of perseverance…
By: Cliff Burns on December 19, 2007
at 8:00 am
You do make a valid point about associating the term with great artists from years past — it would be quite pretentious to put one’s self at the same level as any number of authors who’s works have stood the test of time.
However, I think saying that the phrase “I’m a writer” is giving yourself a title is a bit pretentious as well. It’s a statement designating your own desires and dreams, not a statement of your status in this world or in any industry or craft. It doesn’t mean one is any good — I’ve read a ton of work that I consider absolute crap, from people who are considered near and far to officially be “writers”. People who’ve never picked up a pen before in their life have a single book published and are deemed authors.
If you want to associate the bare label of “writer” with a level of skill or commitment or success, by all means do so. I fail to see the logic behind it, nor do I see the point in putting such a term on a pedestal when some of the worst literature ever created has been written by “writers.”
I am curious though: in your opinion, at what point in time could someone designate themselves as a writer? How many years of perseverance? How much hard work? How many books, or degrees, or poems, or ?
By: mcory1 on December 19, 2007
at 9:49 am
Your last series of questions are good ones and I don’t think I have an easy answer for you. I know a lot of terrible “writers” too, some of them winners of awards. They write crap…but they write it every day and they’ve never given up or been dissuaded from their goal. To that extent I envy them and, yes, they are writers.
By: Cliff Burns on December 19, 2007
at 11:46 am
Fair enough — terrible writers are still writers, and I can agree that some amount of passion and persistence could be considered a prerequisite for calling one’s self a writer.
What then, of those who publish a single book and are henceforth an author? Or those that do write (or in other ways study the craft), yet have accomplished nothing by public standards?
I would think that the fact that one thinks themselves a writer would be proof enough they have some passion for the art, has paid whatever dues they’ve come across, and has put forth as much effort as they’ve considered necessary. They can always learn further about what is involved in it and change their mind — there’s no reason they need to call themselves a writer for the rest of their life. There’s also no reason I (or anyone, for that matter) should tell them they aren’t dedicated enough, or good enough, to call themselves that — I have no knowledge of what they’ve put themselves through to get to the point they feel they can call themselves a writer. It’s not my place to tell them one way or another, nor is it anyone else’s place to judge whether I’m worthy of calling myself a writer. Now, if I said I was a great writer, or a professional writer, or even a prolific writer — if I’d qualified it somehow like that — that’d be a different story.
By: mcory1 on December 19, 2007
at 12:10 pm
“I would think that the fact that one thinks themselves a writer would be proof enough they have a passion for the art, has paid whatever dues…”
But exactly what dues have they paid? Only in the arts do we have this attitude toward our profession: “I think I am, therefore I am”. The arts require enormous discipline and will if one is going to succeed or, at least, stick it out through years of frustration. I can say I’m a plumber but if I tried to give advice to real plumbers, I’d be laughed out of the room. So it should be with wannabes and amateurs who want to assume the laurels without showing the requisite scars…
By: Cliff Burns on December 19, 2007
at 12:32 pm
They would have paid whatever dues they may come across. Not everyone meets the same trials and tribulations, nor should they be considered equally trying: what you find horrific I might breeze past with hardly a nod, and what keeps me awake at night you might find laughable.
If I gave advice to a room of plumbers and they laughed at me, I’d know that’s one room I don’t want to give advice to until I’ve learned more of the tricks of the trade. That doesn’t make me less of a plumber; just tells me that either I need to find a different room with some people who are willing to listen (as a developer, some of the best ideas I’ve heard are from people who know next to nothing of programming) or I learn to keep my mouth shut and keep my advice to myself until I can call myself a “good” plumber, or an “expert” plumber.
(BTW, I think that might be a bad example; isn’t a license of some kind required to call yourself a plumber? Not a straight across analogy if that’s the case. Even then, there’s a slight difference between “licensed plumber” and “plumber”.)
By: mcory1 on December 19, 2007
at 12:46 pm
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