Written Off

I stopped describing myself as a writer.

If you didn’t know, I’ve been writing professionally for a decade. Over the span of those years, I’ve been published more than I can count, written two books, and maintained my blog with at least one post a week.

But over the last two years, I’ve struggled to control the flow of words out of my brain. It seems like I’ve had either been in feast or fallow. I’d go weeks without writing a paragraph, and it would make me feel miserable, disconnected, and frustrated that my one true skill had dried up.

I can’t control how, when, and what comes out of my brain. I don’t decide when I write, I write when things come to me. I’m writing this whilst I warm up for a spin class. It’s not consistent. It doesn’t feel like a skill I can rely upon.

Saying I’m a writer, makes me feel like I am a fraud. It has become easier to say author, because the books were published, no word count could stop that. It’s like part of my identity has been roped off, lying forgotten.

Normally I end with a feeling of resolution or conclusion. But today I’m not sure I can.

It feels weird to ask, but am I still a writer if I can’t rely on my ability to write?