Writer’s life
Why Do You Call Yourself a Writer?
“I am a writer.”
What’s in a name? A writer by any other name would still string words together, surely, but there’s something inherently powerful in claiming the title — Writer.
I am a writer. It’s a declaration, a banner that flutters in the wind, signaling to the world who I am, what I do, and what I stand for.
“Why do you call yourself a writer?” — A question I’ve heard more often than I can count.
It’s not an easy one to answer, not because it’s complicated, but because it’s loaded with centuries of significance, tracing all the way back to the inception of written communication.
I call myself a writer because it is through writing that I shape my universe, put ideas into motion, and contribute to the ongoing dialogue of human history.
The act of writing is a process of exploration, a journey of self-discovery, and a means of expressing our existence.
We’re in good company here, from Socrates documenting his philosophies to Shakespeare penning his timeless tragedies, from Jane Austen challenging societal norms to Langston Hughes shaping the Harlem Renaissance, every writer — professional, amateur, or somewhere in-between — embarks on this exploration, and through it, we find a piece of ourselves.
There’s an old saying that “history is written by the victors,” but I’d argue that history is actually written by the writers.
Writers are the curators of history; they take the raw data of life, extract the essence, and transform it into a narrative.
As a writer, I’m a part of that rich tapestry, interlacing stories and ideas from the past, present, and future.
I call myself a writer because the pen — or these days, the keyboard — is my tool for change.
Remember the influence that Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” had on American perceptions of slavery, or how George Orwell’s “1984” painted a chilling, prophetic picture of totalitarian rule?
Each of these books, written with purpose and conviction, altered the trajectory of societal conversation and propelled us toward change.
I call myself a writer because writing is not just a profession or a hobby — it’s a vocation, a calling.
It’s an innate drive that propels me forward, whispering in my ear, “Write. Create. Express.” To write is to tap into that primal instinct to tell stories around the campfire, to connect with others on a deeply human level, and to explore the multifaceted complexities of our world.
Writing is my form of rebellion, my personal uprising against ignorance and silence.
History is filled with writers who have wielded their pens like swords, challenging the status quo and pushing against oppressive systems.
From the poignant essays of James Baldwin to the fierce poetry of Maya Angelou, writing has been a platform for resistance and revolution.
Of course, there are skeptics who claim that anyone can write. To them, I say yes, that’s precisely the point.
Writing is a democratic art, open to all, but not everyone will heed its call. To call oneself a writer is to embrace the craft with all its challenges, joys, and potential for impact.
It’s a commitment to continuous learning, growing, and refining your skills. It’s not a title bestowed upon us by external validation, but one we claim for ourselves.
So, why do I call myself a writer? Because I believe in the power of words to change minds, inspire hearts, and shape the world.
Because writing, in all its forms, is a legacy that dates back to the dawn of civilization, and I am proud to carry the torch forward. Because, at the end of the day, writing is not just something I do — it’s who I am.
In calling myself a writer, I align with those throughout history who have sought to understand, challenge, and articulate the human experience.
I affirm my place in this timeless endeavor and step forward to contribute my unique voice to the ongoing conversation.
It’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly and a privilege I embrace with joy. And so, I encourage anyone with the passion and purpose to write to claim this title as well: You are a writer.
After all, we are, as Maya Angelou said,
“the sum total of everything [we’ve] ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot — it’s all there. Everything influences each of us.”
Our words are our legacy — let’s make them count.
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