A Letter to Anyone Afraid To Call Themselves a Writer

Dear scared writer,

Yes, I called you a writer. Even if you’ve never written a word, you are a writer in my book.

You see, the spirit of being a writer isn’t measurable.

It doesn’t count words, sentences, or paragraphs.

You can’t buy it.

You can’t touch it.

It comes from your essence. A calling gifted to you from your soul.

The spirit of being a writer is your love of the worlds built from words, the stories you’re aching to get out, the unquenchable need to erect castles from calamity.

It’s your dogged determination to write that first word. That fear of writing that first word.

It’s that desire to contribute to the art form. That persnickety perfectionism. That unstoppable urge to edit more.

It’s that fear of calling yourself a writer until you have proof.

All of that is the spirit of being a writer.

We’re the overthinking, overwriting, overediting, overdoubting type.

And if you’re reading this, you fit write in.

Welcome.

Here’s what you don’t need to be a writer:

You don’t need a published book.

You don’t need a prestigious award.

You don’t need a portfolio of poems.

You don’t need an audience.

You don’t need an expensive notebook.

You don’t need anything.

Read that again:

You don’t need anything, any proof, to be a writer.

No one else can make you a writer. No one else can take it from you.

Writing — being a writer, having the spirit of a writer — comes from within.

An adoration of words.

An appreciation of beautiful sentences.

A smile for similes.

Yes.

You are a writer.

You are a writer.

You are a writer.