This weekend, I got distracted yet again by some useless link while checking in on my email inboxes, favorite blogs, and Facebook account. I found myself trying a new photo-liking website that has no other purpose than enjoying pretty pictures.
Nice, but not exactly useful. And not what I'd planned to spend my Saturday morning on.
But something did come of this 'time-waster.' I found about a hundred more Beauty and the Beast photos - some Disney, some fan art, some from foreign versions of the story - and was yet again reminded of the book that seems to be nothing but continuous false starts. Ugh.
This evening, thinking that I really should try writing more of it, I felt that familiar feeling of doom and the question in the back of my mind crept to the front. Am I really a writer? Or I am one of the million wanna-be's I notice so easily? After all, no matter what the how-to books say, just writing a few words down does not make you an author, or my idea of a writer.
But this time, when the failure came upon me again, I realized that I really am a writer, whether I ever finish my 'masterpiece' or not. Why? Because, my idea of a writer is a person who puts words together in a way that makes sense, and has readers - people who want to read those words.
This blog is my writing, and you all are my lovely readers. After all, I doubt you'd still be reading this if you didn't want to.
So thank you, my wonderful readers. It is you who have made me a real writer - published or not.