That W word - and getting over it.

Ah, yes. The dreaded "W" word. Writer. It's what I tell people now when they ask what I do. It took me months of stumbling around before I was even remotely near comfortable telling anyone that I was a writer. I suppose it took me that long to adjust to my new reality - that I really and truly am a writer. I had to believe it myself before I was able to say it to anyone else. In order to do that, I really had to hold that first proof of my own book in my hands. Still, I don't think it sunk in. For so many years, I had dreamed about writing a book, and then to have it come to fruition, well. It was, and still is, a little bit unreal.

I'm a little bit of an oddball anyhow, socially speaking. I hate discussing money with people, and I don't like to answer questions about myself. However, once I saw that folks were truly interested in the how's and why's of the book, I started to relax. I can talk about it now, knowing that it is a good, solid product, and one I can take pride in. Once that happened, lo and behold, I was able to call myself a writer. It is a job, one I take seriously, but it also is a calling.

Part of the reason I think I had such a problem with the "W" word was because I felt a little like a fraud. Okay, a whole lot like a fraud. Who was I to think I could call myself an author, a wordsmith? I haven't done my time, I haven't served my sentence in the jail of artistic torture for one's art. I just sat down, made notes (six months' worth) and wrote the danged thing. It wasn't easy, but I didn't weep with ecstasy or despair on a daily basis.

Now, however, I've sold copies of my book to people I don't know, and who weren't coerced by a family member. I've had copies added to the local library's catalog, and I've made it through my first book signing - without a panic attack, I might add. Which in and of itself is reason to celebrate.

I am no longer afraid to call myself a Writer, and yes, that's with a capital W. I mentioned to my husband over the weekend that I finally have found my calling, and he looks at me and said 'no'. I thought - okay, he disagrees? Writing is not my calling? He says no, that it was what I've known all along I had to do, I just hadn't embraced it. He just delivered that line and went back to eating his lunch. Left me shocked and, yes, awed. Wow. I think I've arrived...