I am told the first step to being a writer is to call yourself one. I write. I write marketing pieces for my business, I journal. I write e mails to clients, other attorneys and I think some pretty funny Facebook posts. I occasionally, but not as often now, write legal briefs. I have been published. Well, some where paid “advertorials” and some were semi scholarly pieces. What is “being published” anyway? In this electronic age being published is a mere push of a button. Publish. Poof you are a published writer. The local bar association bulletin is begging for content and occasionally I oblige.

I have taken classes in intuitive writing, blog writing and just general get the writing done classes. I have taken a lot of writing classes. I get a great deal of encouragement from my teachers. “You are a writer” they tell me. I currently have a coach to help me get the writing done. Can you believe I actually paid her for this? I have even started several groups, both live and virtual for other writers. I love gatherings of writers.

Several of my friends are published authors. I mean published authors with real books. Self published mostly but published none the less. I mean with an actual ISBN and Library of Congress numbers. Seriously, they are writers.

For more that ten years I have written blogs about divorce. For about six years I have written the occasional blog for a site called Not Your Grandmother’s Seventy — Living your best life an any age.

So what is the hang up? Why do I not call myself a writer? I write. I write a lot. I have a point of view.

This weekend I called it my Independence Day weekend. I declared independence from a lot of things. Independence from clutter, dirty laundry and negative thinking. I’ve made progress on the clutter and the laundry but I am still working on the negative thinking.

Robert Kennedy was once asked why he liked to climb mountains. He said it wasn’t so much that he liked to climb mountains, he liked hanging around with mountain climbers. I like hanging around writers.

Those writers are calling me on it. They ask me why I am not writing. Well, I am, sort of.

The Independence week end is not over. There is still time even though I punched the clock out and went to bed. Something woke me up. Something made me get out of bed and start writing this. My declaration.

I am a writer.

Stay tuned world