Why I'm Here To Begin With

Seems I got ahead of myself with my first blog post yesterday. In ‘I’m Here, Now What?’, I did introduce myself--a little. But then, with no further explanation as to why I was here, I plunged right in with a burning (to me, at least) writerly question. Today I’m going to backtrack and fill in some of the blanks.

In yesterday’s post, I stated that I was a writer. I am. And that brings me to one reason I’m here. For the longest time, I resisted the forward momentum of the digital writing realm, declaring that, by God, I wanted to do it old school--you know, the traditional path with agents, hard copy publishers, the whole book-in-the-hand experience. I still want that, but I’m not so dense as to miss what’s going on around me. After hearing time and again that authors had to put themselves out there on the internet, had to have an online presence, I finally experienced a slow motion epiphany. So I claimed my author page at amazon.com/author/dbclifton, and then started this blog. My hope is that through this digital interaction, I can not only broaden my professional exposure, but also meet some interesting fellow writers and gain a better understanding of what this writing life really means.

Hi, my name is Doug, and I’m a writer. I figured I should begin this part of my explanation as to why I'm here as if it were a meeting of a twelve-step program. After all, for me writing is more than a habit, more than an addiction. It’s a compulsion. I MUST write! But I didn’t always find it easy to say, “I am a writer.” Beginning in adolescence and throughout my adult life I’ve been compelled to concretize in words certain impressions and images that came to me unbidden. Odd, sometimes troubling, little gifts I didn’t know how to handle any other way. But if asked by someone what I did, my reply would be something like, “I just got out of the Air Force.” or, “I work at a fiberglass fabricating shop.” or,  “I’m a postal worker.” Which was all true at one time or another. All the while, though, I really wanted to say something else. If that something else ever came out, it was in a stunted form such as,  “I do some writing.” or, “I play around at writing a little.” I could not bring myself to say, “I am a writer.” as if that would be too presumptuous, too pretentious. I was unworthy. What bullshit! And I’ll let a well known author tell you why.

“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.” - Anais Nin.

Like anyone else who ever lived, with each decision made and every act committed, I was always working on my personal book. I've been a writer my entire life.

In my first post, I stated that I finally became serious about writing a few years ago. It was at that time--slowly over time--that I came to be able to say, “I am a writer.” And it felt so good. Never mind my publishing success, or lack of it, I had arrived at a place where I could embrace that label. Or so I thought.

When I decided to approach writing in a serious manner, I was lucky enough to find an exceptional writing group. I depend on that group. Their feedback is vital to my finished product (is any author’s individual piece of writing ever really finished). But they’ve given me something else of immense value. After one meeting, a fellow member stopped me long enough to say, “You’re a true wordsmith.” Another time, during a critique of one of my stories, another member said, “This shows a fearless writer.” Even considering my publishing successes, those are the two greatest compliments I’ve received as a penman. But along with those kind words--especially being called a "wordsmith"--came a responsibility that made me see embracing the label of “writer” was not enough.

The name of this blog is ‘Word Wright’. I chose the word “wright” for a very specific reason. Like the word "smith"--as in "wordsmith" or "blacksmith--the word "wright" usually doesn’t stand alone, but is most often attached to another such as in “wainwright”, a wagon maker; or “wheelwright”, the person who makes the wheels for the wain. The point is, like a smith, a wright is a craftsman, one who is very good at his work. I would even say an artisan. Someone who turns their work into art.

THAT’S the sort of writer I want to be; not a tradesman, but a craftsman. That’s the responsibility I MUST bring to my trade. And that brings me to what may be the most important reason I’m here. As I continue to write my short stories, occasional poems, and maybe that breakthrough novel, this blog is another step on the path. In the spirit of the above quote by Anais Nin, it's another page in the book of my life.

And now, another question--

When, and for what reason, were you able to embrace the full meaning of the word "writer"?

I’m going to try to offer two new posts each week; on Tuesday and Friday. So, until next time...