I Wasn’t a Writer Until I decided to be one

Today I went out on my porch and I just sat.

That might not seem like a noteworthy experience, but it had been a while since I allowed my mind to be quiet. I closed my eyes, felt the breeze, and listened to the sounds of movement around me as I remained completely still.

And suddenly, I wanted to write. Not just wanted to — needed to write.
A little back story.

I have never really thought of myself as a writer. I wrote a notebook full of awful poetry when I was younger (yes, the poems rhymed), and I loved it. Then in high school, I applied for a summer writing program and was rejected. To my insecure, teenage mind, that only meant one thing — I wasn’t a writer. So I stopped writing.

In college I took a nonfiction composition class with a professor who introduced me to creative nonfiction. I wrote a few pieces, including one about waiting tables. That piece was published in the university’s literary art magazine and won second place in the magazine’s writing contest. But I didn’t stick with it. It was just luck, I thought. I couldn’t actually write something good again. I was going to be a teacher — I wasn’t a writer. So I stopped writing.

Right after I got married, I found a blog written by a young woman my age. Her voice was clear and strong and funny. Her posts resonated with me. I thought, I can do that — I can write, but I didn’t. I was always too busy. Too preoccupied with what had to be done. And I wasn’t a writer. So I didn’t make time to write.

In the quiet on my porch today, I thought about how I ended up here on Medium. Last spring, I started to get the itch to write. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write, and I tossed the idea around of starting a teaching blog (which I did, but I only published two posts).

Then I considered freelance writing. I’m not a creative writer, I thought, but it occurred to me that I could do some business writing and possibly make a little money. I signed up for a membership with Contena, and during one of their courses, I learned about Medium. It was suggested that new freelancers use Medium to publish professional looking writing samples to share with potential clients.

I had seen Medium in passing, but I didn’t know exactly what it was. I certainly didn’t know about the extraordinary community of writers from all over the world who were writing about so many different topics and experiences.

When I headed on over here, I started reading. And I kept reading. And reading. And reading. Then I found The Writing Cooperative and immediately signed up for a membership. The itch to write returned with a vengeance.

When I created my Medium profile, I hesitated before I typed Writer as the first line of my short bio. I didn’t feel like a writer. But I wanted to be one.

In the two months since I’ve started writing on Medium, the itch hasn’t gone away. It has only gotten stronger. Getting my words down on the page and my posts out there for people to read is a powerful experience.

It’s not easy to get my mind to be quiet. I’m usually too busy thinking about what needs to be done and what I should be doing. But now, in the moments of quiet — like today — and even in the busy routine of my everyday, the ideas float through my mind and I need to get them onto the page. To create with words.