I was recently asked to contribute to a friend’s blog. I hadn’t anticipated the invitation, but was happy to accept. It really didn’t take me long to decide what to write about, get it written down and tweaked, and receive what I took as independent confirmation that I had indeed written the right thing, and all of this almost a week before I’m supposed to hand in my piece. I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Then I remembered the other part of her request: “intro text.” Oh. Well, ok, hmm…I can say I love books, I read a lot…maybe a look at other contributors’ intros would give me some ideas. Yeah, that worked out well – reminding me that they are professionals and recognized authorities in their fields, people who get paid for their words. How could I dare to call myself a writer in their company?
I set the whole idea aside and went to check in on some other blogs I follow. Of course, the first one I pulled up was Lanier Ivester’s (www.laniersbooks.com) June 20 post – in which she talks about her hesitancy, her fear of admitting her vocation to write. I’ve only met Lanier through her lovely website, but that doesn’t prevent her getting inside my head sometimes. She even uses the same euphemism I do in answer to the question “What are you going to do today?” I’m about a million times more likely to say “oh, just work on some things around the house” than “I’m going to write.” And just to make absolutely sure I’m getting it, she quotes Sheldon Vanauken, whose A Severe Mercy I just finished reading two days ago.
So, here goes: I’m Becka, and I’m a writer.