You know, a while back I wondered if I’m a writer to the point where I quit writing.

I remember a friend giving me a “silly” gift for my birthday: it was a t-shirt that said “I’d rather be writing my novel”.

And then it dawned on me that I wouldn’t.

I was telling everyone that I’m a writer and that I’m writing a book, but really, I was doing anything but.

So I stopped.

I had find myself out. I had played a game on myself. I was stuck and didn’t write, and didn’t enjoy writing anymore, so I decided I wasn’t a writer after all.

Until I spoke to that same friend, the one with the t-shirt, and she said “You can’t not be a writer, you’ve written how many versions of how many words each of that book that no one has ever seen? Why would you do that if you’re not a writer?”

Then BOOM — it hit me. Writing scared the hell out of me. Making it as a writer, having people read and judge my thoughts and characters, and descriptions, even more so.

I’ve grown a lot since. I now know for a fact that I am a writer. I’m not an author yet. I’m not successful. Maybe I’m not even good. But I am a writer. It’s the right goal.

And it’s the best feeling in the world, knowing this.

Thanks, Ayo, for once again confirming my thoughts.