I’m a writer.
Consider this my whisper in the dark, my scribble in the pages of my journal.
I’m a writer.
Is being a writer conditional? If I am a writer now, have I always been? Has it just been waiting, biding the time until the right moment?
I’ve been writing for a long time, of course. 5-paragraph essays and chemistry reports and lines of code and research papers.
I’ve been journaling, consistently, for about four years (and sporadically for years before that).
I’ve been writing in this little space, this little corner of the internet, for about a year and a half.
And I have never considered myself a writer. I have been writing. I write. But a writer?
Could I dare put that into being? Could I pencil that into the list of adjectives that I use to describe myself? Did I have the audacity to claim writer?
I’m not a capital-letter-Writer. I don’t have any published work at all. It’s not my day job, or even my night job. I don’t have a business card or a contract or a book cover with my name stamped on it, telling the world without doubt that I am, indeed, a writer.
But I have words, overflowing from my heart and my hands. I have stories to tell and secrets to share. I have truth to weave together, nouns and verbs to knit into a sentence so cozy you’d want to curl up in it.
I have a voice. I have something to say. And I’m saying it.
Consider this my shout, my declaration, my scream into the sky –
I am a writer.
why yes, I am combining 31 days + five minute friday. how convenient that they happen to be the exact same thing, hm? to learn a bit more about my 31 days series, click here. to see what’s going with five minute friday, head over to Lisa-Jo’s and then join us. it’s simple: one word, five minutes, a lot of love.