This is a part of a longer internal conversation I've been having with myself over the past year. How do I know I'm a writer?
Recently this came to a major head about a month ago (or it feels like a month, maybe it's only been two weeks). I had a very realistic dream (I dream in color, in case that makes a difference). The scene was a mashup of a local convention and my Viable Paradise class. There were lots of really cool things going on and I was getting totally psyched and energized (which is one of the reasons I go to conventions, because that happens 75% of the time). And then a group of us were in a con suite/green room space and a BNA I know, respect, and have hung out with turned to me and said, "Just stop it. You're embarrassing yourself, Steve. Admit you're not a writer and just move on."
Yeah. Woke up crying. Haven't done that in almost a decade.
Needless to say I've been depressed since then (little d). I haven't had much time to process that with everything else going on. But, hey, I'm skilled at stuffing my emotions away. That's probably why I haven't been able to lose any weight lately.
Part of this, I'm sure, has a little to do with the last time I was around this BNA. Something happened that at the time I took as a joke. However, with my own paranoid tendencies, I've been wondering if it wasn't. So for over half a year I've been debating writing an email asking them about it. But then I think I'm being too needy or self centered, and chicken out.
How do I know I'm a writer when my output has been taking that hyperbolic plunge toward "nadda"? Because right this moment I had such an intense home sick feeling for writing that it again brought tears.
God, I fuckin' miss writing. I miss sitting in a corner telling myself jokes and pounding out the words; ignoring my wife, the cats, and the rest of the world. I miss thinking where I should send my stories/manuscript next. I miss it down to lint in my toe nails and it hurts because I'm not writing (you know, other than the small solace writing the blog gives). I even miss the nice rejection letters. Can't beat that.
Writing, I just can't quit you.
So maybe I should write that letter soon.