Continued from yesterday
“. . . If you want to call yourself a writer who writes for the public service, that’s up to you too! You pick the label that you want to wear. Whatever anyone else thinks is their business, not yours. Think about it.”
Louise took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “I know it’s hard, but you have to stop caring what other people think, and focus on yourself and what you believe.”
Elena sighed. “But I don’t know what I believe. I think I’m kidding myself most of the time. I mean when was the last time I wrote anything that was any good? I can’t even remember. It’s hard enough just getting through the day, without making myself sit down and write at the end of the day. I’m not a writer am I? I just write as part of what I do.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” said Louise. “You get to decide what you are. You. Not a dickhead you meet randomly. What would he know? You don’t even know this guy, yet you’ve let him undermine your belief in yourself. You did that to yourself.”
Elena was silent for a moment as the truth of Louise’s words sank in. “But even if I am a writer, even if I say that every day and I start to believe it, I’m not really am I? Because I don’t actually write anything.”
“Right,” said Louise. “So what do you do about it? I think you really do want to write, and that you really do think you’re a writer, so now, my friend, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” replied Elena. “What can I do? I have no idea what I even want to write about, let alone any time to do it.”
“Does it matter?” asked Louise.
“What?”
“Does it matter if you don’t know what you want to write about? Why do you have to know that?”
“Um, because how can I write if I don’t have something to write about?” Elena sounded irritated. “I can’t just sit down and write garbage. What’s the point of that?”
“Of course you can,” replied Louise. “In fact that’s exactly what you have to do. You have to write for the sake of writing. To get into the habit. So you know what it feels like. You need to get your mojo back, and you can’t do that by sitting round drinking coffee and moaning that you aren’t really a writer. Just write. Write about anything, whatever words come out.”
“But that’s just stupid,” Elena protested. “What’s the point of that? I need to write about something, not just whatever comes out of my head.”
“Well sure, if you want someone to read it,” said Louise patiently. “But we aren’t talking about anyone reading it. That comes later, when you have the ideas. Right now we need to get you back into the mindset of being a writer, and all you have to do to do that is write. Trust me.”
To be continued.
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