I’m reminded tonight that there is an earning of the right to write.
Yes there is.
There is an earning in every single word one writes to that great manuscript in the sky. It is the building up to the opus. The right to finally say that “I am a writer.”
Or, better, the understanding that comes with all the work that you, me or Joe Novelist is finally a writer. It may not be with the first book or article published or even with the second or third, but after several, perhaps even a million words written before that epiphany hits. And it doesn’t come all at once. It’s a process of elimination and addition. Adding one more essay or story, deleting this and that, until one is most focused on what one does best and that is, to write.
Through the work, there is a moment I have finally come to in which I have said, I’ve earned this. I have written this. And that. And I will keep writing.
I have this five year committment to this writing and maybe I’ll never stop, but I’ve earned this. The right to write. This is mine, thank you very much.
Let it be.