It was at dinner with friends. Or was it Christmas at the in-laws when your husband introduced you to the neighbors? You just remember that you were literally against a wall, trying to avoid that conversation starter until you were ready. But then a flurry of people came in and you just had to be introduced; it would be bad etiquette if you didn't. Which is probably why it happened. Your fight or flight reaction kicked in, and you always fly. Your mind sprinted to the nearest door that had the answer. You're breathing normally, so at least you are not having a panic attack just yet. However you feel your eyes widen as you see the oncoming question.
"What do you do?"
I'm a writer.
"What do you write?
Oh short stories for now. A novel eventually.
It was the Freudian slip you weren't ready to tell people just yet. You had hoped by the time people would inquiry about your new position there would be something to show for it. However those were people who knew that you took the leap. Or the fall as you often refer to it because it's only a matter of time before you hit the bottom. Right now you are just floating. These are people you've never met. Before it was simple you could have an answer that people had a vague idea what you did. But you don't do that now. Now your hole is dug, so prepare to get comfortable.
People always seem to catch you at the one moment when you were doing nothing. Perhaps that why you work so hard at everything you do. Then again you had to say something. You are too old to be the shy person hiding behind the tallest person next to you. Besides, it never worked when you were young anyways because your mother would never let you.
And if you keep telling enough people perhaps it will eventually come true, right?
Now it just sounds too much like a white lie.
Empty. Hollow. Just a bit fake. A word with no substance that was simply left hanging in mid-sentence. You don't like that feeling. It's as simple as that. You are not one of those people who say something and not mean it. It's a flaw that you have. After years and years you've finally accepted it. Just like how you cannot feign niceties no matter how hard you try. So it's hard enough to tell people you are a writer who has only just begun to write.
What do you have to show for it? Nothing. Just notes here and there. To show them a notebook of potential ideas would be like handing in a thesis with at least ten possible conclusions. Nothing you can hypothetically present to them and say "This is what I've written."
You never would but at least you have evidence.
Which means you must write something. A phrase. A sentence. A paragraph. A page. This is the unexpected push you need to write. If you keep up this life that you must keep writing until it is true. You must take those whimisical, witty thoughts that come to you throughout the hours of the days and string them together into something singular and coherent. In other words you need to give yourself purpose. Suddenly it occurs to you that you really have been caught doing nothing.
You've been biding your time until a vision comes to you and hands you your book without any effort. Waiting until you tire of the freedom of being able to do whatever is your whim, and say to yourself "this is enough, I'm ready to go back." But you don't want to go back to that rigid schedule of mundane tasks. This is the first time in a long while where you have to make yourself productive. Up until this point you've been doing nothing but busy work. Isn't it about time that you create something that you can show and tell?
With each person you tell you must prove them them and yourself that you do what you say you are. And you can't do that without writing. Not just writing, but organizing those creative thoughts into directional roads that you can finally walk on. It's a reason they call it the road less traveled. You can't sneak by that inevitable question because it will always come up.
Always.
And you will always have to give the same answer, unless want to give up this dream. Since you don't, you should probably practice at least saying it. Eventually your voice will strengthen each time someone inquires about your occupation. Your throat will not stutter nor will your voice have that meek and mousy tone. No more awkward pauses hoping they will forget what they just asked.
It will be assertive and confident. One day you will even mean it.
Now say it with me (it really is on the tip of your tongue):
You are a writer.
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