There are two kinds of writers: the ones that write, and the ones that don’t, but will do anything to keep a white-knuckled grip on the title. That isn’t to say the latter of the two should be demonized, but it could do a lot of good for aspiring writers to ask themselves what they want.
Why would you want to hold onto the title of “writer”? The most obvious reason is the romanticism placed on writers. You might imagine long nights penning ideas by candle light, and immersing oneself in vast concepts. You imagine the glory of being called an “intellectual.”
I couldn’t tell where it was coming from—all I saw was red. You know how if you ever see a deer in the woods, they stop dead in their tracks when their eyes meet yours? That’s exactly what happened. She mumbled something. The red on her face dripped and dripped as she slid from view, but I kept walking.
Those eyes fell into the sea of tired faces going through the motions of the everyday. Like the blood that stained her porcelain skin, there was now something in my mind which I couldn’t let go of. And somehow I knew I wouldn’t be getting much sleep.