Coffee shop conversations
Coffee shop conversations
So yesterday I made my way to Starbucks, hoping to write and read and generally be productive with my last two weeks of summer. While I was searching for an appropriately cushy armchair where I could set up my office, I started talking to a couple who were sitting nearby with their own cushy chairs and some very strong coffee. (I guess I haven't been fully initiated into the artsy Starbucks scene; I always get chai tea or fruit smoothies.) As it turned out, they were freelance writers who had also written some short stories who were also working on a book who were also meeting with some peeps down in Hollywood to talk movie rights with said peeps...and when I shyly admitted that I was kinda sorta a writer too, we started talking.
To be honest, I often avoid talking to other writers, specifically in writerly places like coffee shops. Not because I don't love learning about other people's passions and hobbies; mostly because other writers often like to tell you everything you're doing wrong. I'm not opposed to constructive criticism either, but it's hard to get constructive criticism from strangers in Starbucks. Strangers who have never read your book. And who don't know your genre. Or your agent. Or...anything about you, really.
This conversation was different, though, because it wasn't about criticism or competition ("my genre is better than your genre" etc. etc.); it was just sharing. And since they were obviously a lot more experienced than me, they had a lot to share. But one comment they made really stuck with me:
"Once you start getting your work out there - and it doesn't even have to be good work, just decent - you are a writer. You're a professional. Start calling yourself one."
I've always struggled with this. Because, technically, I've been a professional writer since I was seventeen. I got my first paycheck for a newspaper article in September of 2007, and I haven't looked back since. But when people ask me what I do, I generally say that I'm a waitress or a student; "writer" sounds so pretentious to me. I am young; I look young; and I see the expressions on people's faces when I mention that I write. Sometimes it's skepticism. Sometimes it's shock. Sometimes it's flat-out disbelief. (Ask Kirsten Hubbard how many times we had to explain to our LA cab driver that yes, we are in our twenties, and yes, we are also authors.)
But something happened to me yesterday. When I sat down with my laptop and my iPod and this couple asked me what I did, there was only a split second's hesitation before I said, "I'm a writer." It still felt pretentious; but it also felt true.
And they didn't look at me like I was a five-year-old announcing that he intended to take his cardboard box into space; instead, they offered encouragement and advice and success stories of their own.
Before they left with their very strong coffee, the gentleman shook my hand and said, "You're well on your way. You know how I can tell? Because you had the confidence to call yourself a writer."
And I wonder if maybe it's just that simple. You take your laptop to a coffee shop; you write every day, pounding out words, trying to sell a few articles or short stories; and when people ask, you answer, "I'm a writer." Because once you start scribbling out your novel and talking to agents and attending conferences, it's no longer a dream - it's a part of your life. And you shouldn't be ashamed to say so.
P.S. Also, this is funny.
So yesterday I made my way to Starbucks, hoping to write and read and generally be productive with my last two weeks of summer. While I was searching for an appropriately cushy armchair where I could set up my office, I started talking to a couple who were sitting nearby with their own cushy chairs and some very strong coffee. (I guess I haven't been fully initiated into the artsy Starbucks scene; I always get chai tea or fruit smoothies.) As it turned out, they were freelance writers who had also written some short stories who were also working on a book who were also meeting with some peeps down in Hollywood to talk movie rights with said peeps...and when I shyly admitted that I was kinda sorta a writer too, we started talking.
To be honest, I often avoid talking to other writers, specifically in writerly places like coffee shops. Not because I don't love learning about other people's passions and hobbies; mostly because other writers often like to tell you everything you're doing wrong. I'm not opposed to constructive criticism either, but it's hard to get constructive criticism from strangers in Starbucks. Strangers who have never read your book. And who don't know your genre. Or your agent. Or...anything about you, really.
This conversation was different, though, because it wasn't about criticism or competition ("my genre is better than your genre" etc. etc.); it was just sharing. And since they were obviously a lot more experienced than me, they had a lot to share. But one comment they made really stuck with me:
"Once you start getting your work out there - and it doesn't even have to be good work, just decent - you are a writer. You're a professional. Start calling yourself one."
I've always struggled with this. Because, technically, I've been a professional writer since I was seventeen. I got my first paycheck for a newspaper article in September of 2007, and I haven't looked back since. But when people ask me what I do, I generally say that I'm a waitress or a student; "writer" sounds so pretentious to me. I am young; I look young; and I see the expressions on people's faces when I mention that I write. Sometimes it's skepticism. Sometimes it's shock. Sometimes it's flat-out disbelief. (Ask Kirsten Hubbard how many times we had to explain to our LA cab driver that yes, we are in our twenties, and yes, we are also authors.)
But something happened to me yesterday. When I sat down with my laptop and my iPod and this couple asked me what I did, there was only a split second's hesitation before I said, "I'm a writer." It still felt pretentious; but it also felt true.
And they didn't look at me like I was a five-year-old announcing that he intended to take his cardboard box into space; instead, they offered encouragement and advice and success stories of their own.
Before they left with their very strong coffee, the gentleman shook my hand and said, "You're well on your way. You know how I can tell? Because you had the confidence to call yourself a writer."
And I wonder if maybe it's just that simple. You take your laptop to a coffee shop; you write every day, pounding out words, trying to sell a few articles or short stories; and when people ask, you answer, "I'm a writer." Because once you start scribbling out your novel and talking to agents and attending conferences, it's no longer a dream - it's a part of your life. And you shouldn't be ashamed to say so.
P.S. Also, this is funny.