As I’ve been packing things up this week to get ready to move I realized that I have been basing my decisions on whether I keep certain things in or not in my office, bedroom and basement is if the item will help me move along in my writing career. This is amazing to me because I have never thought this way before.
It makes me happy that in a way I am owning the fact that I am an author. I’ve always known this in the back of my head, but I rarely vocalize it. I don’t portray it in my day to day life. I tell my family and my husband that I am writing, but I don’t call myself an author even though I am author. I did get one of my essays Why I Walk Alone published in Walking Magazine seven or eight years ago. I didn’t get any money for it, but it didn’t matter to me. I was published in a magazine. I had a clip to use. Yeah!
I realize if I want to move forward in my writing career I need to call myself an author. I have to put myself out there. I have to admit to others (besides my blogging community) that I am writing a novel, essays, short fiction or whatever I am working on. I need to join a writing community. I need to be present as an author.
The only problem is is that I am not an author to the people around me. I am a factory worker. A (awesome) aunt. A stepmom. A sister. A daughter. A coworker. A friend. A sister-in-law. A niece. But not an author. In a way, it is kind of sad that no one really knows the author me. My family and my husband know I want to be an author. That I am writing. I didn’t tell anyone that my essay was published. I don’t know why. Maybe because I didn’t make any money for it. Maybe because I know people would expect more of me than I could deliver at that time. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe
I don’t know why I am telling you this. This isn’t what I wanted to write about today, but it’s what filled my head and I had to get it out. I am an author and I am proud of what I create and it’s time to share it with the world.
Maybe it’s because I am working on my romance novel and all of my dreams about having a romance novel published are coming back to the surface and reminding me of who I really want to be and what my dreams are. I need to get back to being that person. I think it’s the reason why I am on this earth. To write. To create. To help people through my writing. The more I blog the more comments and followers I get on my blog. The more posts I post my writing gets stronger and the more confident I become in my abilities.
I’m glad I’m letting more of the real me to the surface. It’s scary, but it needs to happen. I can’t keep hiding my author self to the world. I need to own that fact that I am an author. I need to scream (well maybe not scream) from my rooftop I Am An Author!
I Am An Author!!!!!