Yesterday, I talked about art and what it means to be an artist and how, despite my credentials, I don't often actually feel like an artist at all. I am currently at a point in my life that, were someone to ask me, "Are you an artist?" I would reply "Yes." I would probably say it begrudgingly, apologetically. It would probably be more of a "Yes, but..." rather than an emphatic "Yes!" And I would probably not volunteer that title without being specifically asked.
If I'm talking to someone in line at the grocery store, and they ask what I do for a living, I tend to say "substitute teacher" - because that is where I have been making the bulk of my income (as little as it is). It's also something most people can immediately understand. In public, I don't like to talk about myself. (Writing blog posts is another beast, separate from talking face-to-face.) I shy away from mentioning the art I produce or the stories I like to write (1) because those aspects of myself mean more to me than being a substitute does, and I tend to keep those things that mean the most to me closest to me and (2) because I feel more insecure, more fraudulent in those fields in which I have a greater interest, in which I have more experience; as I discussed in yesterday's post about impostor syndrome, I often reject taking on any air of authority. Paradoxically, in the fields in which I should feel most confident, I often feel least confident.
Which brings me to the question... Am I a writer?
I have an art degree, I spent hundreds of hours in studio art classes (and art history lectures) in college, and I've sold some of my artwork for profit (minimal profit, but profit nonetheless). As a writer, however, I have none of these credentials. I took only one semester-long course in creative writing at Eastern Michigan University, and only three Literature courses (none of which were higher than 100-level classes). I did not take so few courses because of lack of interest, so much as from lack of time. I only had so much room to fit non-art elective courses into my schedule, and I also wanted to explore samplings of women's and gender studies, philosophy, psychology, and linguistics, in addition to English. My BFA degree makes no mention of my lifelong interest in creative writing. I did receive a 5 on the AP English Literature test and a 4 on the AP English Language test when I took them as a junior in high school in 2005 (higher scores than the 3 I received for AP Art Portfolio as a senior in 2006), but it's not like anyone cares about high school test scores and transcripts after acceptance into undergraduate programs. No one is going to look for that information; they'll never know it unless I go out of my way to tell them. If we go even further back in time, I can point to writing awards I earned in middle school - an essay contest I won in seventh grade; a poetry contest in eighth. Everyone can list similar credentials in one subject or another. They feel meaningless; barely more noteworthy than participation ribbons. But they do prove that writing is something I've always enjoyed, always pursued, in some form or another.
The only things I've ever had published are that middle school essay and poem copied into pamphlets distributed by the Detroit Writer's Guild, and my honors thesis - an extended artist's statement paired with a piece of nonfiction, a historical overview of flowers used as sexual symbolism in art. The thesis, by the way, is available for purchase on Amazon - which could be proof enough that I've "made it" as a writer, if I chose to take it as such. But my problem with that publication is that (1) I didn't approach anyone to publish it; instead, an academic publisher in Denmark stumbled upon my thesis and encouraged me to publish it, which means I never wrote any query letters or received piles of rejections, something I'm told every true writer is supposed to go through, (2) I haven't made a single cent in royalties off of it - because so few copies have sold (I'm a bad salesperson) and they don't cut a check until the total royalties actually gets to $20, and (3) the entire text of that thesis is available for free through the EMU Honors College website. (I told you I'm a bad salesperson.) On top of all that, while I am proud of that thesis, it's not exactly the type of writing I'd always loved most; it doesn't make me the type of writer I'd always dreamed I'd be growing up.
I write fiction stories. I make huge outlines for entire books, entire series of books, complete with character charts of their personality traits, sketches of what the characters look like, and chronological histories for each character - their backstories, their memories, and their futures as it extends past the end of the story I'm writing them into. I draw maps of the town and the time period the story takes place in. I make schematics of the interiors of important buildings, so I know where the staircases are and how big the character's bedroom is. And I write stories. I've always done this. When I was a kid, I'd spend hours making up lists of character's names (first names paired with last names, in alphabetic order, a classroom roster) and then I'd design the layout of the classroom (who sat where, who was friends with whom) and come up with stories for everyone. I have probably at least a dozen stories like this from my childhood - outlines for stories, or the beginnings of stories, or complete short stories that are only a few pages long. For most of my life, I considered myself more of a writer than an artist. Art was like a hobby. Writing was what I wanted to <i>do</i>.
And then I lost confidence in it. Everyone I knew in school was a good writer, because everyone I knew was a good student, and writing is so crucial to academic success. Sure, not all of my friends had the imaginations I did - though I'm certain they could have come up with similar stories, if they'd enjoyed it like I had, if they'd prioritized the flexing of their imagination muscles - but they were all as adept with the English language as I was, and many of them seemed even better, nabbing higher grades in English classes, getting those A+'s instead of mere A's.
Art was more unique. Art was something that people would shake their heads at, marveling at my apparent talent. (Quick public service announcement - like anything else, art is not a talent so much as an acquired skill. I got good at art because I did it a lot, and I did it a lot because I enjoyed it. Anyone who says "I can barely draw a stick figure!" is outright lying - unless they legitimately do not have the fingers to hold up a pencil.) And so, for awhile in high school I felt better about my art than I did about my writing. (Until I got to art school and met more artists. Then I was self-conscious about it again.) I prioritized art, and I got that art degree. But I never stopped writing. Even while I was taking art classes, I was writing stories in my spare time - as a hobby, as a coping mechanism, as an outlet for the stress of school.
It's still a dream of mine to be published - to publish a story, not a textbook. In fact, it's one of the things I'm working on this year - getting the courage to send out some of those query letters, to start a search for a literary agent who will help me publish the current series I'm working on. And so I do a lot of writing.
But am I a writer? Like being an artist, I find writer a hard word to swallow. Harder yet is the word author, which I just can't bring myself to believe can apply to anyone other than someone who has undeniably officially published books and made money off their royalties. (I want to be an author; I feel like I can only call myself an aspiring author at best.) But writer? If a writer is simply someone who writes, like an artist is someone who makes art, then of course I am a writer. I've written a thesis that you can find online and read, I've written this blog entry you're reading right now, and I've written stories that aren't yet available to the public.
Maybe one day (hopefully one day) I'll feel confident enough to call myself an author, too.
If I'm talking to someone in line at the grocery store, and they ask what I do for a living, I tend to say "substitute teacher" - because that is where I have been making the bulk of my income (as little as it is). It's also something most people can immediately understand. In public, I don't like to talk about myself. (Writing blog posts is another beast, separate from talking face-to-face.) I shy away from mentioning the art I produce or the stories I like to write (1) because those aspects of myself mean more to me than being a substitute does, and I tend to keep those things that mean the most to me closest to me and (2) because I feel more insecure, more fraudulent in those fields in which I have a greater interest, in which I have more experience; as I discussed in yesterday's post about impostor syndrome, I often reject taking on any air of authority. Paradoxically, in the fields in which I should feel most confident, I often feel least confident.
Which brings me to the question... Am I a writer?
I have an art degree, I spent hundreds of hours in studio art classes (and art history lectures) in college, and I've sold some of my artwork for profit (minimal profit, but profit nonetheless). As a writer, however, I have none of these credentials. I took only one semester-long course in creative writing at Eastern Michigan University, and only three Literature courses (none of which were higher than 100-level classes). I did not take so few courses because of lack of interest, so much as from lack of time. I only had so much room to fit non-art elective courses into my schedule, and I also wanted to explore samplings of women's and gender studies, philosophy, psychology, and linguistics, in addition to English. My BFA degree makes no mention of my lifelong interest in creative writing. I did receive a 5 on the AP English Literature test and a 4 on the AP English Language test when I took them as a junior in high school in 2005 (higher scores than the 3 I received for AP Art Portfolio as a senior in 2006), but it's not like anyone cares about high school test scores and transcripts after acceptance into undergraduate programs. No one is going to look for that information; they'll never know it unless I go out of my way to tell them. If we go even further back in time, I can point to writing awards I earned in middle school - an essay contest I won in seventh grade; a poetry contest in eighth. Everyone can list similar credentials in one subject or another. They feel meaningless; barely more noteworthy than participation ribbons. But they do prove that writing is something I've always enjoyed, always pursued, in some form or another.
The only things I've ever had published are that middle school essay and poem copied into pamphlets distributed by the Detroit Writer's Guild, and my honors thesis - an extended artist's statement paired with a piece of nonfiction, a historical overview of flowers used as sexual symbolism in art. The thesis, by the way, is available for purchase on Amazon - which could be proof enough that I've "made it" as a writer, if I chose to take it as such. But my problem with that publication is that (1) I didn't approach anyone to publish it; instead, an academic publisher in Denmark stumbled upon my thesis and encouraged me to publish it, which means I never wrote any query letters or received piles of rejections, something I'm told every true writer is supposed to go through, (2) I haven't made a single cent in royalties off of it - because so few copies have sold (I'm a bad salesperson) and they don't cut a check until the total royalties actually gets to $20, and (3) the entire text of that thesis is available for free through the EMU Honors College website. (I told you I'm a bad salesperson.) On top of all that, while I am proud of that thesis, it's not exactly the type of writing I'd always loved most; it doesn't make me the type of writer I'd always dreamed I'd be growing up.
 |
| Me, posing with one of my thesis watercolor paintings, for the book jacket of my published thesis. Taken last year, when I still had super long hair. (I grew it out to donate it.) |
I write fiction stories. I make huge outlines for entire books, entire series of books, complete with character charts of their personality traits, sketches of what the characters look like, and chronological histories for each character - their backstories, their memories, and their futures as it extends past the end of the story I'm writing them into. I draw maps of the town and the time period the story takes place in. I make schematics of the interiors of important buildings, so I know where the staircases are and how big the character's bedroom is. And I write stories. I've always done this. When I was a kid, I'd spend hours making up lists of character's names (first names paired with last names, in alphabetic order, a classroom roster) and then I'd design the layout of the classroom (who sat where, who was friends with whom) and come up with stories for everyone. I have probably at least a dozen stories like this from my childhood - outlines for stories, or the beginnings of stories, or complete short stories that are only a few pages long. For most of my life, I considered myself more of a writer than an artist. Art was like a hobby. Writing was what I wanted to <i>do</i>.
And then I lost confidence in it. Everyone I knew in school was a good writer, because everyone I knew was a good student, and writing is so crucial to academic success. Sure, not all of my friends had the imaginations I did - though I'm certain they could have come up with similar stories, if they'd enjoyed it like I had, if they'd prioritized the flexing of their imagination muscles - but they were all as adept with the English language as I was, and many of them seemed even better, nabbing higher grades in English classes, getting those A+'s instead of mere A's.
Art was more unique. Art was something that people would shake their heads at, marveling at my apparent talent. (Quick public service announcement - like anything else, art is not a talent so much as an acquired skill. I got good at art because I did it a lot, and I did it a lot because I enjoyed it. Anyone who says "I can barely draw a stick figure!" is outright lying - unless they legitimately do not have the fingers to hold up a pencil.) And so, for awhile in high school I felt better about my art than I did about my writing. (Until I got to art school and met more artists. Then I was self-conscious about it again.) I prioritized art, and I got that art degree. But I never stopped writing. Even while I was taking art classes, I was writing stories in my spare time - as a hobby, as a coping mechanism, as an outlet for the stress of school.
It's still a dream of mine to be published - to publish a story, not a textbook. In fact, it's one of the things I'm working on this year - getting the courage to send out some of those query letters, to start a search for a literary agent who will help me publish the current series I'm working on. And so I do a lot of writing.
But am I a writer? Like being an artist, I find writer a hard word to swallow. Harder yet is the word author, which I just can't bring myself to believe can apply to anyone other than someone who has undeniably officially published books and made money off their royalties. (I want to be an author; I feel like I can only call myself an aspiring author at best.) But writer? If a writer is simply someone who writes, like an artist is someone who makes art, then of course I am a writer. I've written a thesis that you can find online and read, I've written this blog entry you're reading right now, and I've written stories that aren't yet available to the public.
Maybe one day (hopefully one day) I'll feel confident enough to call myself an author, too.
How about an author / illustrator? :)
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