Are You a Writer?

I hope everyone had a wonderful Memorial Day, and took a moment to say, “Thank you” to our military. Without their sacrifices we may not enjoy the privilege to write so freely.

During my long holiday weekend someone asked me a two questions I thought worth sharing.

1.”Are you a writer?”, and
2. “What makes one a writer?”

Their position was clear. One trained to become a writer, completing an apprenticeship of sorts, and at some point down the road, proved their competency as a writer. I pressed, “How would competency be measured?” They were unable to define how.

“Is it after one publishes his/her first book?” I asked.
“What about articles and stories? How many must be published before one can call themselves a writer?”
“Must one make money or be employed in a regular job writing?”
“What about being the author of blogs? Does that count?”

This isn’t a new topic. If you goggle the question, you will discover any number of discussions and opinions on the subject matter. Even the dictionary and wikipedia  list more than one definition, from one who writes a particular text  to how one writes.

Don’t get me wrong, I agreed with some of arguments presented in our discussion. For example, I believe writing is a learned skill. Therefore, continued opportunities to improve one’s writing through classes, conferences, etc should be utilized by all writer’s.

For me personally, I  use a number of avenues to improve my writing. Critique groups where I seek honest and constructive feedback, classes, and subscriptions to writing resources, books and magazines. Everyday I  learn something new. Writer’s come in all shapes and sizes, some with the ability to move us from word one, while others must work harder.

I am not an aspiring writer, although I aspire to be a better writer, and to have my first novel published. I aspire to do many things in this life.

I am a writer because it is how I see the world. I believe words are powerful. They delight, sadden, provoke, and soothe us. They move the world, and influence people, and when one has the courage to put pen to paper, because they want or must share with others,  I call them by their name, Writer.

Shakespeare reminded us long ago the value of a name.

“What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would not smell as sweet.”

My name is Sheila and I am a writer. What is your name?

Hall Of Expressions

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

Five Sentence Fiction – Silence

HALL OF EXPRESSIONS

She held tight to the small clutch in her hand taking time at each one, as she strolled through the rooms, her heels echoing on the floor of the museum. She came here at odd hours to avoid the crowd, seeking refuge from all the noise.

Unmatched by any words, the beauty of the paintings brought solace; Words having lost their meaning long ago. No such talent to express her pain she came here in the quiet, hall of life’s expressions to borrow others. She stopped and stared at the painting on the wall, squeezing the clutch in her hand, she fought back the tears, but her broken heart pushed them forth as she saw the painful truth of their deadly silence.

Hungry Fairies

10 moths

Photo credit: Roxann Phillips

I had a little fun with this week’s prompt, and  the road less traveled.

              LUNA MOTH:

Although rarely seen due to their very brief (1 week) adult lives, Luna Moths are considered common.  As with all Saturniidae, the adults do not eat or have mouths.[4] They emerge as adults solely to mate, and as such, only live approximately one week. Flash Friday Fictioneers

HUNGRY FAIRIES

“Damn! Closed! You said they were open twenty-four hours. I’ve tasted a strawberry-banana smoothie the whole flight! Now, what?”
“Sorry. Maybe, we’re early. It isn’t like we can walk in the place an order, stupid.”
“Wait. A light flickered on in the back, I think. We might be in luck. What do you want?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You see that hunk of burning love putting on his apron? My mind isn’t on food, and with only a week to live? Well, that’s where this Luna plans to land. Strawberry-banana?”
“You’re such a fairy!”

Mom’s Vigil

FREE WRITE FRIDAY

MOM’S VIGIL

She stood in the window oblivious to the noise. All her focus on the street and the big clock on the wall, as minutes ticked away. When the call came, in the middle of the night, she thought the worst. It’s what every mother did. Late night calls never bring good news, except this time. Unable to go back to sleep, she’d been cleaning, dusting, changing linen, and baking all her favorite things.

Would she really come? She toyed with the pearls hanging around her neck and glanced at the clock.

“No later than 11 o’clock, I promise, mom.” The clock said 10:45am. A feeling of dread began to move up slowly from the pit of her soul. Her chest tightened as tears of disappointment began pushing upward. She glanced at the clock one last time, 11:30. Her hands trembled as she reached up to pull the curtain closed when the knock on the door came.