I Wanted To Be a Writer

I’m trying to rediscover my love of writing

Photo by Muhammed Zafer Yahsi on Unsplash

I wanted to be a writer so bad. I thought I had so many important things to say when I was younger. I thought I had so many novel ideas. I thought I was exceptional.

I wrote a crappy blog where I wrote every thought that happened to pop into my brain. I posted the link on Facebook and eagerly awaited the fanfare. I thought someone would discover my blog. It would be an overnight success! Heck, maybe I would even write a book someday!

I wrote every week for almost a year. I was constantly checking to stats to see if I had made it big. I even looked up ways to drive more traffic to my blog.

Sadly, no one read my crappy blog, and I realized I was not exceptional. I was the opposite of exceptional. I was mediocre, and I had nothing to say.

I still read that blog sometimes—last update, ten years ago—stream of conscious thoughts about love and life and friendship. It is the equivalent of a 21-year-old shouting sweet nothings into the void.

He was convinced he was going to be successful. He was confident that the world was going to listen. He was convinced he was a writer.

Now I’m 30. I go to the gym, take classes, and sometimes we have a question of the day. More than once, that question has been: “what is your dream job?” I always answer the same. If I could be anything, I would be a writer.

I would love to spend my days pounding away at the keyboard. I could send stories to families and friends, asking them what they think. People would share my stories and go on about how insightful and articulate I am.

My 20-year-self would be in heaven.

I could never be a writer, though. I don’t have the sharp, witty prose or the sentence flair. I can’t craft the perfect paragraph to lure in readers. I don’t have the snarky humor that will keep readers begging for more.

I could never be a writer. I was never very good at SEO, and I haven’t researched how to structure a blog post.

I could never be a writer. I work in a soul-crushing, hot, sweaty factory in the middle of Indiana. Who wants to hear about that?

I certainly don’t have the funny life experiences of my contemporaries. Nor do I have a dramatic back story that I can supplant with a clickbaity title for easy views.

I didn’t even think about writing until I discovered Medium by accident, and I felt that familiar itch. Anybody can write, and they can even get paid for it! Even a novice like me can be a writer.

I read so many stories on Medium. People write so many beautiful things. I do not have the skills or talent to write like them.

I will never be a writer.

Except, I am a writer.

I wanted to be a writer so bad, but I never thought about what makes a writer. A writer, by name, is someone who writes. By that standard, I am and always have been a writer.

I may not be a great writer. I may not even be a good writer, but a lousy writer is still a writer.

I enjoy writing. I let the concept of readership destroy the pastime that I love so much.

I thought you had to have an audience to be a writer. I thought that was the only way that your work had meaning. I thought I only had something to say if people were listening.

I probably won’t ever make a cent from Medium, and I may never hit 100 followers, but none of that matters because I can confidently say for once in my life. I am a writer.