Good words! Every time I get caught up in the act of defining myself, I think:
Wouldn’t it be great if labels simply didn’t exist? If a noun was just a “person, place or…a malleable entity that defies one or two word description?” I’ll admit, it would make categorizing our existence far more complicated. But let’s first assume everything we do is “real.” When I’m mothering, I’m a real mother. When I’m cooking, I’m a real cook. When I’m sleeping, I’m a real sleeper. When I’m walking down the street, I’m a real street walker (heh heh heh). And when I’m making art, I’m a real artist.
People will always ask what we do for “a living,” or how we pay the bills. I think we’re in agreement when I say “how you pay the bills doesn’t make you who you are.” But, as writers, the world beyond labels is where we seek to dwell, in the land of malleable entities that defy one or two word descriptions.” In other words, F**K labels!