I knew I was a writer … by Bill Arnott
… around the time I signed my first book. The purchaser, someone I’d known for years, looked at me with an excitement I’d never seen in them prior to the publication of my modest trade paperback – a book about personal development and designing a good life – what we labeled self-help in the day. It sold well. Authors I admire said kind things about it. A number of people who gave glowing reviews actually read the book. From the proceeds, I was able to send cheques to Make-a-Wish Foundation, granting wishes to children with life-threatening illnesses, the whole thing remarkably satisfying, and humbling.
When I read that book now, however, I find parts cringe-worthy. I’ve improved my craft since then. But the work still makes me proud. Writing it, I began to find my voice, albeit lathered in vanilla, tiptoeing a path I felt would offend no one. Remarkably, I still managed to insult a few idiots. That was when I knew I was a writer. Not before. Not during signings, donations, or doe-eyed looks. Don’t get me wrong, that was enjoyable, but it didn’t convince me of my capabilities as a writer. It was the moment I realized I’d written something that shared a sliver of personal world-view to engage, stimulate and provoke, reaching readers in a way that made them feel – whatever those emotions ended up being – joy, sadness, or in the case of some, the realization I wasn’t in fact opinionated, but wrong.
After my initial confusion (How can you find that offensive?!) I had my first sense of being authentic as a writer. It gave me the courage to scrape away the bland frosting, my subsequent book being forthright and opinionated. Fewer people have read it, yet I’m more proud of it.
I won’t fault someone writing for a broad audience. We all have different goals. If you’re doing so with a voice that’s your own, that makes you proud and fills readers with emotion, I applaud you. It’s a fine feeling. And if you write something you file away for no one but yourself and still feel good about it, I applaud you as well. If you’ve triggered an emotion by doing so, then you already know you’re the real deal.
Learning how to write is easy. There are plenty of author-instruction manuals gathering dust on bookstore shelves to choose from. Determining why you write will set you apart, providing focus and objective. Yes, you’ll continue to work hard, challenge yourself, and tackle inevitable obstacles. But you’ll never question your life as a writer.
