Seriously. I have written a novel. Revised said novel. Revised the revision of my novel. Learned a lot about writing novels. I mean. A lot. And here I am, beginning my journey to published-hood and I hesitate to call myself an “author.” Because an author is someone who gets paid to write, right? Someone with expertise, right? A professional, right? So where and when is this line that I cross that makes me an expert? Is “author” a title I can dub myself or do I have to earn it?
I read a great article about earning your “Er.” Short version: To earn your title as writer all you have to do is write. Simple. So maybe to earn my title as “author” all I have to do is publish. But why then do I feel like such an impostor? (Oh right, probably because I am a creative person and to be a creative person is generally to live in perpetual battle with self-doubt)
For me, there is a nagging wish that someone in the “industry” (a publisher or an agent) will come and read my book and tell me I am worthy. I am the chosen one. I can move forward into the promised land of published bliss.
Research has told me otherwise. The publishing industry is not what it was, it is ever-changing, and unfortunately for us littles, we can choose to wait outside the gates trying to reach those high, high windows with our pebbles, or we can own our creativeness and go for it.
I am not the type of girl to sit around waiting for other people to dictate my fate, and especially not my dreams.
I have chosen to go for it.