"Just a Writer"

I have a tendency to see the world a little differently than some other people and I’m ok with that.  In my mind, I am an artist.  I paint pictures with words.  I also think many people are artists in a wider interpretation.  The bricklayer is creating a masterpiece I could never make.  The person handling my 401k puts together the right blend of investments to make my assets grow.  Mechanics working on my car do a wonderful job of putting it back together so it will work for me and be safe.  The person cutting my hair takes a shaggy mess and creates a less shaggy mess out of it.  If you really look at the world from an open viewpoint, there are artists all around.  I am pleased to count myself among them.  Then I ran into someone the other day I was working with who said, “So you’re just a writer?”  The Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World” in my head came to a screeching halt.  ‘Just a writer?’  That cut me to the quick relatively speaking, I have accomplished what only a select few in the world have.  Many more have tried and failed.  Even more never had the nerve to try in the first place.  I would never say someone was just a bricklayer or an investment banker or a mechanic or hair dresser.  These are hardworking people who take pride in their work and so am I.  Writing may not require heavy lifting or other manual labor but it is a hard job all the same.  You have a vast array of characters you must develop and make real for the reader.  They each must have their own storyline.  Those storylines must intertwine with the main tale.  Then you must have it all planned out and placed with the events in order.  From there you must dance from one point to another in the story through dialogue and minor scenes.   When it works you pull it together to have your masterpiece.  When it doesn’t work, you go back and find where it went astray.  It is a painstaking act of love.  There is no feeling as satisfying as when the story comes together.  Then you have it published and get feedback from readers.  This is like giving your 5^th grade speech in front of the world.  Some people won’t like it.  Others will love what you have done.  They are the ones who fortify you.  When you have a down day, you can read those positive comments about how your book was a positive part of their life.  That spurs you on.  So when someone says I’m ‘Just a writer’ I feel an immediate outrage and then remember that this person likely has no idea what goes into my art.  My anger turns to pity and I move on.  They aren’t worth the explanation.