Q: What is a writer?
A: Someone who writes.
Q: Who is a writer?
A: A quagmire of perception and interpretation so complex that there is no definitive, conclusive answer.
When people ask me what I do, I assume, naturally, that the question they’re actually asking is what job do I have? I always answer with the most straightforward response because it has the most external, verifiable evidence: I am a teacher. To prove it: I have a teaching degree and certification from the Ontario College of Teachers. According to the experts, I am qualified to teach. A second piece of evidence: I have a teaching job. Someone believed I was well qualified and trained enough to teach. A third piece of evidence: 13+ years of experience. I have done the job for a lot of years; I know what I’m doing.
Am I a writer? Who is to say? There is no professional qualification for a writer (although my Master’s thesis was on the concept of licensing journalists to give exactly that credibility, but that’s another story… 🙂 ) There is no professional, external body to evaluate my training, expertise or experience to officially designate me as a writer.
Therefore, anyone who writes is a writer.
Does that mean I count myself in company with William Shakespeare? He wrote.
Or do I share the same profession with J.K. Rowling? She writes. How about Margaret Atwood, the preeminent Canadian author? Or Stephen King, the prolific American horror fiction writer? In their respective genres, they are gods. Can I claim to be in the same heavens as them?
Of course not.
So I ask again, who is a writer?
I ask because of an experience I had earlier this week when I was fortunate enough to meet the award-winning, internationally best-selling author Kenneth Oppel. My friend Jim Sherman, a retired colleague who now owns Perfect Books, an independent bookstore in downtown Ottawa (check out his website at www.perfectbooks.ca, or better yet, drop by his store and check it out in person!), was part of the Ottawa International Writer’s Festival hosting Kenneth Oppel at a reading presented to intermediate students. It happened to be held in the auditorium of my high school.
While Jim was busy selling Kenneth’s books, I stole a moment to ask Kenneth to sign his latest novel Every Hidden Thing. We chatted for a few minutes before Jim joined us.
“Were you too modest, or have you mentioned to him that you’re a writer, too?” Jim asked me, smiling.
A writer, too.
My friend and mentor introduced me to an internationally-acclaimed author as a writer, too.
How cool is that?
Of course, I felt modest enough to point out I’m yet unpublished, but Kenneth was kind, considerate and generous enough to engage with me as if I were one of his profession.
Am I?
Of course I’m not in his league.
(Yet!)
But am I a writer? Do I deserve the title Jim bestowed on me?
I write.
I have written.
I made my living by my (non-fiction) writing for eight years as a freelance journalist before I turned to teaching.
I write this blog.
Is that enough?
When do I call myself a writer? Now? Without the adjectives like “unpublished” or “amateur” or “part-time”?
Later, when I get that first, elusive publishing contract?
And who determines that I am a writer? Me? Because I think I am? Because I think I have some talent above and beyond the average joe? (Perhaps even arrogant enough to believe I have talent above and beyond the average joe who already has been published?)
Or a literary agent? (In which case, since I had a contract with one, does that get me in the club?)
Or an audience? Only if people read my work am I a writer?
If I am a writer, how do I differentiate myself from Uncle Bob who posts his rants on Facebook about the length of time it takes to receive his tax return?
Or maybe I don’t? Is Uncle Bob as much as a writer as I am? Are you as much as a writer as I am? More? Who decides?
For a long time I thought the answer was the publishers. They are the gatekeepers, the arbiters of what’s good and what isn’t, but we’ve all heard the stories about dozens of publishing houses who have turned down authors whose works later became sensations (ahem, Harry Potter, anyone?)
Yet self-publishing today no longer has the stigma of a vanity press that it once did. So is that enough to grant you membership?
I’d like to say I’ve internalized the philosophy that anyone who writes is a writer, but still I hesitate to use that label for myself. I do not yet make money from my writing and I do not yet have a large, adoring fan base. (Maybe someday!)
Until then, I think I’ll do my best to forego labels and perceptions and expectations.
I think I’ll just write.
