The Eternal Question


At what point does someone become a writer?


Is it at the moment of first publication?  If so, is there a level of publication considered worthy of bestowing the title of writer?  Or will any zine or elementary school contest provide one’s status?  Is it when someone a writer doesn’t know seeks them out because their work drew them in?

Or is the mantle bestowed at some point earlier, perhaps?  The moment when the writer first hears the whisper of an old friend’s voice in her mind that gives that first encouraging line. A thread that proves to be the beginning of a rolled tapestry waiting to be aired out in the sun.

At what point do the clouds part, and with a bright of kiss light, an ordinary human transforms into an entirely different species?  Or are they born with a cloistered host of strangers in their head clamoring for their stories to be shared with the world?  Can someone be crafted into a writer if one is not initiated by blood and one’s gene pool? 

Or perhaps I’m making too much of things.  Perhaps, instead of questioning that moment, I ought instead to finish polishing these writing samples and start scouting.  But that, as we all know, would require me to stop procrastinating.

Nevertheless, I want to know.  At what point do you consider a person can be called a writer?


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