Part-Time Lover… I mean Writer

(Because I like to be brutally honest about the mess in my mind, while writing this, I have the

melody of Stevie Wonder’s Part-Time Lover streaming in my head. I may also have it streaming

on my phone.)

It’s like the philosophical question: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it,

does it make a sound?” If the words I put on a page are not published, is it a book? Am I a

writer?

I certainly don’t like to tell people that I’m a writer, for multiple reasons.

It sounds so cliché. When I imagine the conversation with people, it goes something like this:

“Well, my job is (fill in my day job), but really, I’m a writer.” I envision this declaration is

accompanied by an arrogant hair flip.

Of course, that’s not how I say it. I murmur it quickly and add a self-deprecating shrug. Actually,

if I’m being completely honest, I don’t say it at all. My writing aspirations are still a somewhat

guarded secret among my friends, acquaintances and day-job co-workers.

When I told The Husband my fear of sounding cliché when I say I’m a writer or that I’m working

on a novel, he looked at me like I’m crazy. I explained: “All 30-something year old women with

pre-teen kids, living in the Midwest fancy themselves a historical fiction writer. Obviously.”

Then he said something along the lines of: “Isn’t a cliché something everyone says? I don’t

know a single other person who is doing what you’re doing.”

Touché, Dear Husband.

Besides the fear of the cliché, title of Writer doesn’t feel like something I’ve earned. Yes, I’ve

put in the man hours to write the novel. And yes, I put in even more man hours to do the

research on the historical landscape that is my book’s setting and an uncountable number of

hours learning about the publishing industry. But I only have a file on my computer, a dent in

the seat of my office chair, and keyboard keys with the S, D and E worn out to show for my

efforts. A professional writer entails having been paid for such efforts. It’s also a badge of

honor, in my opinion.

Without a book on the shelves of Barnes and Noble, I don’t see that I’ve earned that honor.

Ben Folds, though, thinks differently.

And yes, like any true spouse of a double-digit marriage, I certainly value the opinion of my

celebrity crush over my husband. Ben Folds (singer, songwriter, crush-worthy star) can convince

me when The Husband cannot.

He said in a podcast that he hates hearing “part-time” artists (I added the part-time) belittle

what they do. He said they work more at their craft that he does. He said being a “full-time”

musician is not what everyone thinks. He spends the majority of his days managing the business

side of his career – doing interviews, producing podcasts, promotion, etc. He said he spends

very little time writing new music and playing his songs. If the measure of a “real” artist is the

time spent with their craft, he said he’s part-time and people like me are the true professionals.

Thank you, Ben. I often remind myself of his words.

Lastly, though, I shy away from announcing that “I am Writer! Hear Me (or my pen) Roar!”

because I’m terrified of failure. What if I tell everyone I’m a writer and then it all comes to

naught? What if my book never sees the light of florescent bulbs in a big box bookstore? What

if I have nothing publicly to show for my assertions and efforts?

I don’t have an answer for those questions because I’m still struggling with them every day.

Sometimes, I just have to be brave, have a little faith in myself, and say: “I’m a Writer.”