Ten years ago, I remember wrestling with whether it was okay to call myself a writer if I had never been published.
Maybe I was waiting to for someone to give me permission.
In the end, I just started saying it:
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I will make myself a writer by saying it, I decided. I am a writer, not because it is who I am, but because it is what I do.
Even so, I knew I wasn’t a real writer until I had readers.
So, I guess it was you who made me a writer.
I am so thankful.
Enjoy tomorrow, friends. I wish you lots of pecan pie.