I've been full of nerves since last week, not that I could have told you about them. Subterranean nerves, pretending that they aren't nervous at all.
I've been waiting to get final information from a company which hires freelance writers, and to start getting assignments from them. Waiting very impatiently, for my part, which is one of the clues about the hidden, lurking nerves. Rationally, I can accept the need for everything to get sorted. Emotionally, I want everything to be FINISHED NOW, please. I want to get working. I want to make some money.
It's about money, and more than money. More important things than money, though money matters and it will be a relief to have more of it available. It's about acknowledgement. It's about getting to be a writer.
It's so different, saying something about myself and having someone else say it about me. I have only been able to say, even to myself, that maybe I am a writer? Maybe I can do that? But when someone else agrees, the whole thing becomes so very much more real. I can even say it about myself now, where I struggled to before. I'm a writer. I write things; that's the work I do. I'm a writer.
I'm still absorbing this change; I have very few sensible words to say about it. But I can still say it. I feel like I can actually say it tonight, and it is more true than it was before. I'm a writer. That's what I do. People pay me for it and everything.
I'm still practicing saying it, it's such a novel feeling. I'm a writer. That's what I do.