"You're not really a writer."
"You're a fake."
"You've got no stick-to-it-ive-ness."
These are the thoughts that sometimes come to mind when I read the Inscribe blog or blogs by other writers. They come because although I love to write, I'm terrible, really awful, at marketing myself. Publishing isn't something I'm willing to work at just now in my writing career (even saying that word feels fake). I did it for a couple of years, with beginning success (articles in Discipleship Journal, Today's Christian Woman, Romantic Homes, and others). But I stopped. The isolation of writing and the stress of constant marketing made me think that I wasn't really a writer.
Instead, I returned to school and achieved a B.A. in French. Now I'm a teacher on call at a Christian high school and I love interacting with the students and staff there.
But I continue to write. Writing is in my blood. When I have a problem to solve, when life seems overwhelming, when gratitude threatens to overflow, I turn to my journal, to my computer, always to writing. Writing clears and makes sense of the mazy muddle that can be my mind.
Not all my writing relates to sorting out my thoughts. I recently invigilated AP exams at school. Three hours of walking up and down between rows of students left me a lot of time to think. One day I composed a poem in my head and wrote it down later. I added it to my small collection of poems and think that one day I will compile them into a book for my husband.
Character sketches come to mind and are scribbled on odd sheets of paper and filed away, for what purpose - I don't know. I store memories in files on my computer. I write Morning Pages on quiet days when I stay at home. I muse about the meaning of a verse of scripture I read.
I am a writer. I write because I must. I love to read what others write and perhaps someday, the desire to be published will return. For now, I'm content to write.
by Lorrie Orr