Though I finished my MFA 15 years ago, I still remember the debates my classmates and I used to have about this question. We were all paying a lot of money to study writing, but could we really call ourselves writers if we hadn’t yet published a book?

Most of my classmates said no.

I disagree with this claim so vehemently that I’d actually forgotten what a hard question it is for unpublished writers to answer.


I forgot what a hard question it is for unpublished writers.

At the Endless Wonders Book Fest earlier this month, I greeted the steady stream of visitors to our booth the same way: “Hi! Are you a writer?” Over the five hours we were at our booth, the foot traffic never slowed and my question never changed.

Throughout the day, we spoke with writers at every stage of their writing journey, from middle school students through professionals with graduate degrees and publishing credits.

Many of these writers’ friends and partners were quick to answer for them, sometimes very loudly. Like maybe they’ve done it before.

“Yes! Yes! She’s a writer!”

The writers looked momentarily murderous of their companions. Some of them would cop to it under this pressure, but others outright rejected the label. “Well, I write some stuff, but I’m not a writer.”

Two groups of writers had no trouble answering this question: middle schoolers and published novelists. (I’ll save for another blog all I know about the awesome confidence of middle school writers.)


Published novelists had no trouble answering this question.

In many professions, you receive credentials—degrees, licenses, certifications—that identify you as a professional and then you start practicing the profession. 

Pass the bar and you’re attorney. 

Get a teaching degree and you’re a teacher. 

Publish a book and you’re a writer. 

Achieve a thing and then you become a professional.

Except writing isn’t like that. 

With writing or any other art, you do and do and do and do and do the thing. Over the course of all this doing and doing, professional credentials, accomplishments, and accolades may come your way, but none of them determine whether or not you’re a writer. 

You do and do and do and do and then you are. 

(Don’t forget to tell your partner or friends they were right.)