Being a "writer."

I've always had a hard time calling myself a writer. I suppose I think it's too professional, too formal for me. Though I have been a story teller as long as I can remember. Imagination running wild, and only a few years ago did I manage to begin to transcribe the thoughts into words on paper.

These days I'm becoming more and more comfortable in my writer's skin. Stretching my limbs more often, seeing what I am capable of. Although typically I am a fiction writer, I have recently been working with things like this here blog, an interesting new medium. As well as odd internal monologues that are still full of an onslaught of errors.

I guess I am just testing the many, many different waters. Because surely once I go to school the last thing I want is to walk in on the first day of class and feel more lost then I already do. God only knows if I'll even get into a school based on writing.

I know there are people that do, and would think, that I'm crazy for trying to go to college for writing. Because, well, what happens if everyone thinks I suck? Or I can't get published or anything?

Enter, Plan B. (Also, slightly part of Plan A.)
Create a tree house hotel. (No, seriously.) Each guest "room" would be a tree house. Although I have to keep reminding myself that to do this I'll either need to befriend an architect or marry one because I sure as hell am never going to be that good at math.

But I digress...

Everyone always says, "Oh, so then are you going to teach English?"

No. No, if I wanted to teach I'd go into an English and teaching program. I don't want to teach. I want to do. I want to spend the rest of my life writing. I want to do something that makes me happy and makes me feel smart and accomplished. Besides that, I can't not write. So why would I waste my time pretending to want to do something else?

As for truly being a "writer" I suppose that definition is in the eye of the beholder. But as far as I am concerned, I still have plenty of time to refine my title.

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