Respecting Your Writerly Life, Part I: Validating Your Role

When can you start calling yourself a writer?
Now.

Chuck Sambuchino

If you’ve watched or listened to this week’s podcast, Episode #23, “Validating Your Writerly Role,” this is your support follow-up. If you haven’t, what the heck’s been stopping ya?

In that episode we revisit the BOHOs. Remember them? The Big Ol’ Hairy Obstacles that tell you that you can’t compete in the publishing market, that no one reads books anymore, that your social media presence is rubbish, that you’re going to be bitterly disappointed so why don’t you stick to working in retail. 

Unfortunately, those aren’t just the BOHOs in your head. Plenty of people are eager to tell you the same things, to your face, sometimes couched in, “Bless your heart—you try so hard,” which is the worst. 

They don’t match what’s going on in your head, in your voice. You’re hearing that this story idea won’t leave you alone, that you won’t be so restless if you get these images on paper, that if you don’t say this who’s going to? 

AND they don’t match what you’re actually about. 

The best way to diminish the power of the BOHO is to know exactly what your role is as a writer. Here’s how that works:

Examples!

If you’re out for a light jog just to lift your spirits and get some fresh air, and some guy on the sidewalk says, “You’ll never get to the Boston Marathon,” how serious are you going to take that?

If you’re dressed for a fancy dinner party and your babysitter says, “Isn’t that outfit a little formal for a barbecue?” you’re not even going to bother to set her straight, are you? (Bless her heart) 

If you’re grieving a loss and some idiot (not a term I use much but sometimes…) says, “Lighten up. Smile! You’re bringing everybody down!”—that person is lucky you don’t punch them in the face.     

The same applies to writing. If you know what your role as a writer is right now, in this season of your life, you can totally ignore any BOHO-istic criticism that you’re not doing what you never set out to do in the first place! 

If you’re writing a deep, serious piece and someone says, “This just isn’t funny,” you can discount that, right?

If you’re creating a fun, wholesome romance and somebody points out that you need to get some raw sex in there, you’re going to dismiss that out of hand.

If you’re composing poetry and the reader-over-your-shoulder wants to know why you don’t just come right out and say what you mean, you know for a fact they don’t know what they’re talking about. 

Going Even Broader

Why you write is as much a part of your role as what you write, maybe even more so. Being specific about that can make much of what any BOHO says completely moot.

If you’re not doing it for money, BOHO whispers like, “You can’t make a living at this,” are like saying, “Why bother with a diet? You’ll never be a model.”

If you aren’t interested in publication, BOHO hisses like, “You have a pitiful social media presence,” are like saying, “Knitting sweaters for your family isn’t going to make your name a household word.”

If you feel called to write about a particular issue, BOHO jeering like, “That is so not on trend!” are like saying, “Oh, my gosh, your house is so dated. Pitch those antiques and go to Ikea!”

Questions to Ponder

In the podcast episode, I suggest pondering four questions that will help you establish your current role as a writer. They’re here so you can take your time sitting with them. (We go into more detail in the episode)

1. What do you feel compelled to write about?
2. Who do you really want to write that for?
3. How much time can you realistically devote to your creative pursuits, given this season of your life (i.e. how much you have going on)?
4. How do you want to feel when you’re writing?

Describe Your Role

There is no denying that if we find the right fit, we’re more likely to stay in the role and eventually be able to dismiss the BOHOs the way we wave off an annoying gnat. 

Given your answers to the four questions, you can now describe your writerly role. In detail. As in, write it out. You are a writer, after all. 

Keep it in front of you.

Tweak it as your life situation evolves. 

You might even land on an image that is so you. 

Me? 

At this point in my life, in my seventies, retired from full-time paid mentoring and from traditional publishing, I see my role as leaving a legacy. The four-book fiction collection I’m currently indie publishing, as well as a non-fiction companion for Scribbling Women, are part of that legacy. I want to leave behind an oeuvre (a body of work) that will continue to encourage and support and inspire creative women, especially in a culture which has to fight to maintain and nurture that creativity.

My image is my epitaph, maybe engraved on a brass plate on the urn containing my ashes:

Nancy Scribbled On.

She longs for you to do the same. 

Need I say more?