A writer?

People started calling me a writer and identified me as a writer, but I do not like to be called a writer. I am uncomfortable with the designation. Because I am a person, not a writer. I do not even like to say I write things. There is something, well, official about the title, and formal, but I am not royalty and I don’t want to be put on a pedestal, and labelled as “writer 123”. I hold no pride in the title “writer”. When I realized this more I thought about changing the title of this blog to “Mr. Invisible’s Shanty Town” or something like that, which I may do. This blog has all the writerly bits and bobs like a category called “writers life” but I’d sooner be more inconspicuous now. If I happen to use writerly categories, they are convenient ways of connecting with readers. All I am is me.

Habits

There are the usual habits of the writer, but for me one of the most important one is “waste not, want not”. Life can be a garbage can at times, in that things gets thrown around and thrown out. The ideal is not to waste anything. As a writer, this means to not waste a word, a paragraph, and idea, that may be of use somehow, somewhere. Of course, I fall short in executing this 100 per-cent, but the principle is something I want to abide by, from what’s in my room, to the cupboard, generally speaking. Waste not, want not also means that anything I buy is used economically, from food, to CD’s.

The usual

The image of a writer seems to be non-consumerist and sometimes, when conscience dictates, I try to be 100 percent non-consumerist. Yet wind up buying things I should not really: music, movies, and way too many books. So where would this leave my writing? Or more precisely where does this leave me? Yet I found myself still trying to write the next Oscar winner, and cleaning my fridge more than usual, and doing writerly jobs I value very much.