What Makes You A Writer?

Some writers say you're not a real writer unless you write every day. I heard this view espoused by Walter Mosley at NoirCon in 2022. I hope his admirers realize that writing every day will never make you write like Walter Mosley. The divine spark can't be codified or taught. And speaking of the divine spark, many think it doesn't count unless you'd keep writing even if you knew nobody would ever see your work, unless you experience withdrawal symptoms whenever you try to stop. My fellow SleuthSayer Steve Liskow has described having this experience. Not me. Divine spark, yes. Withdrawal, no. If I was absolutely sure no one would ever see it? I don't think so. Writing is meant to give me a voice, not a tree falling in the forest.

An unpublished writer is in limbo. To many, you're a real writer, ie an author, only when you're published. They even have a variety of rules about where you're published and how and what you earn from your writing. There's an insidious doubt in many writers' hearts that even if you think you're a writer—and have the blood, sweat, tears, and hundreds of thousands of words to prove it—you're not a writer unless others think you're a writer. As King Lear said, that way madness lies. Not that that stops us.

In 2007, I wrote the following in a blog post titled "Pre-Published Writers and the Glass Slipper":

Back at Halloween, I went to visit my granddaughters and found the 3-year-old decked out in full regalia as a Disney Cinderella. Young Cinderella reenacted the fairy tale over and over all afternoon, kicking off her transparent shoe (“Oh, no! I’ve lost my glass slipper!”) and trying it on again. There wasn’t any prince in her version of the story, and she was in no hurry to get to the happy ending. Instead, before trying to fit the shoe on her foot, she would slip something into it— a sock, a plastic spoon, a finger puppet—leaving no room for her foot. “Oh, no!” she would moan. “I’m not Cinderella!”

I’m reminded of how awful it sometimes felt to be a writer who had not succeeded in finding a publisher for whom my manuscript was a perfect fit, especially in the twentieth century. That would be before I found the legendary Guppies, my first network of other writers who knew exactly how hard it is and that talent gets most of us nowhere without incredible persistence and that bit of luck that can’t be willed or forced.

Back in the 1970s, when I was writing and then trying to sell my first three mystery manuscripts, I remember being asked a cocktail party, “What do you do?” “I’m a writer,” I said. “What have you published?” my inquisitor asked. “Nothing yet,” I said. “I’m working on a novel.” The guy’s eyes glazed over and he drifted away.

Today, I’d have a lot to say to my younger self...I could offer helpful suggestions...“Don’t let anybody call you a wannabe,” I would say. “You’re pre-published. Keep writing, keep revising, and keep sending out. Your mantra is “talent, persistence, and luck.”

For many years, I kept a Peanuts cartoon pinned up on my bulletin board. It showed Charlie Brown lying on his back on top of Snoopy’s doghouse, reading a rejection letter. “Your novel stinks,” it says. “I’ve never read such a terrible piece of writing. Stop trying to be an author.” In the last frame, Charlie Brown says, “It’s probably a form rejection letter.” The trouble with writers is that we need the hide of an elephant, but many of us have the skin of a grape, and most of us lack Charlie Brown’s optimism. An agent or editor writes (as they do so frequently), “Not for me” or “I didn’t fall in love with this.” “Oh, no!” we moan, like Cinderella. “I’m not a writer!”

I’m a lot better writer than I was when I started sending the first version of my book to agents. I was impatient and had to learn from my mistakes. I’m also a much better writer than I was at the age of seven, when I first said, “I’m a writer.” Looking back, I can see it served me better to keep saying, “I’m a writer” and keep on writing than to get so discouraged I stop writing because any given agent or editor’s glass slipper doesn’t fit my manuscript. So here’s another mantra for those working hard to achieve first publication: “I’m a writer. I’m a writer. I’m a writer.”

Back to 2023: Since I wrote all of the above, my writing has continued to develop. I've found my, ahem, mature voice. Over time, I've given up completely on commercial success. I don't have to convince myself of anything. I don't care whose eyes glaze over when I say, "I don't have a new novel," or, "I'm writing short stories these days."

And as for marketing my work, two days ago (April Fools Day—coincidence?) I woke up in the morning from a dream in which I ranted at a blogger,
"I don't care if I'm on NPR! Ten or twenty years ago I would have killed to be on NPR, but not at my age!" Hmm.

What makes you a writer?