If you want to be a writer, it means you're going to have to write.

I’m grateful to report that this is not a regular occurrence on this 5x weekly blog, but something came forward last night that I needed to sit and confront, until it was, indeed, past my bedtime, the duty (and joy, let’s be honest) of writing to you relegated until the morning.

Which is where we are now. Good morning.

I feel as though I still have the spirit of Steven Pressfield ringing in my ears, especially as one of his main tenements came forward for me last night while I was doing what I needed to do instead of writing to you. It makes for a bit of a paradoxical example, but here goes:

You may have heard about or even been part of the cultural debate about cell phones having sophisticated cameras now, which means that the value of photography as an art form and a profession has been culturally diminished because many non-professionals now consider themselves able to do what previously only professionals were capable of doing.

I suppose we could also relate this back to AI in the writing sphere, but that’s not my agenda today. Only to make the point to you that having the ability to write and make nice sentences does not a writer make you.

I had to learn this the hard way a few years back, after reading Pressfield’s excellent book, Turning Pro.

I knew that I was good at writing. I knew that I wanted to write. But I wasn’t actually doing the writing. I didn’t have that muscle developed; the discipline muscle. Therefore, when I would venture to tell people, “I am a writer,” it felt sort of like fibbing, or like there was this fishing line attached to my gut where an empty space existed. And every time I would say those words, “Yes, I am a writer,” the fishing line would tug and pull and remind me that where there was a space, there should be something in it.

When it happened for me (and not very long ago), my mind was blown by the intellectual realization that to be a “writer” (a WRITE-ER) is to be someone who writes, then repeats. They’re not a one-off savant. Maybe you wrote, and that’s great. But there’s an active, present sense of action to the word in question.

And in case you require a reminder, dear reader, all of this is why I started this blog. To flex and hone my writer’s muscle. To draw more challenging and rewarding work into my sphere of practice.

And to tell the truth when I tell people what I am.

’Til tomorrow.