An author, a writer, a copywriter. Many people like me asks themselves every day what they are. Does it mean I’m an author if I can make enough money to survive when I’m writing? Or is it the amount of time I dedicate to writing? Needless to say I’m an author, a writer and a copywriter. There.
The stories that swarm my mind are written in my head. These people live in my head, they exist and without pay rent. Some days they taunt, others they haunt but some days they will pound so hard I have to grab a pen, a scrap of paper, and write it down, nothing else will do.
Other days procrastination is real. There are so many more things I could be doing than writing. There are so many things I do instead of writing, haha. It’s maddening.
But here we are. After writing a few paragraphs, getting together with the characters in my novel in their living room, their kitchen, at the diner, or at the bar, delving into their psyche and their feelings, I get hooked again. The ropes I’ve tied inside me to keep them in, because right now I don’t have time to write, become unbound. They flow out through my fingers onto the screen of my laptop materializing in letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, and chapters. The book isn’t done. Not just yet. Twenty years of slithers here, of gushes there, and words tossed anywhere, when I’m finally done… you will know.
You will know because you will hear my scream, you will hear my accomplishment, you will hear me roar that it’s finally done. What has taken me more than 20 years will be. I promise.
So, yeah. You better believe I’m an author!