Cogito Ergo Scribo

I have been mulling over this post on the Penguin Blog (inspired by this slightly depressing Guardian article - though the comments section is worth checking out) since I read it a couple of weeks ago, and I'm not sure I'm any closer to coming to a conclusion.

Recently, when I've been introduced to new people or have been talking to people I haven't seen in a long time, the inevitable questions comes up:

"So, what do you do now?"

I clear my throat and glance at my shoes and look around the room and come up with a variation on:

"Umm well I'm still at the record label, temping - only meant to be a two week placement in January and now it's September, haha! [Insert awkward pause as they smile politely.] And, umm, kind of freelance writing on the side" - the last sentence of which usually gets somewhat swallowed, as I hurry to say - "but I'm trying to find a proper job as well."

What does any of that mean? Why do I mumble when it comes to writing? Half the time it's because I want the conversation off me and back on to them (I have a knack for turning people's questions back on themselves and thus avoiding having to talk about myself much) - and people tend to jump on the writing thing and start talking about it. Perhaps it's embarrassment, that I'd dare to call my paltry efforts "writing" and thus myself a "writer"? The Siouxsie Sioux article came out this week (note to self: scan and upload) and a colleague who saw it commented that "now I could call myself a real music journalist." Of course I'm not going to. Not after one music interview would I have thought to call myself that, and not after however many I've done now. It's still just "freelance-mumble-writing"...

Thinking among my friends, there are a few who write: blogs, blurbs, books, short stories (two of whom have even won competitions for their stories, smart cookies that they are) - but I don't know if they'd actually class themselves as "writers". It seems like a majority of the commenters on the Guardian piece say they don't want to be a writer for the sake of being a "writer" - they write because they'd go crazy if they didn't. Because they have to. I suppose I'm the same, although perhaps lazier. I'd go nuts if I couldn't daydream and work ideas in my head, and I do eventually get them into some shape and form and enjoy escaping to the Neverneverland where I go when I write. But even just writing this post about writing feels - I don't know, kind of... presumptuous. And a little like revealing too much of myself.

A lot of the blogs I read (*cough*lurk on*cough*) are about writing (I was going to say 'by writers', but then that brings us back to the same old argument) but I can never bring myself to turn this blog all about whatever personal writing projects I have on the go because - well, I just don't feel good enough. Cogito ergo scribo doesn't necessarily become scribo ergo scriptor.

I guess in the end there's not really one easy answer. People are going to call themselves writers if that's what they feel and believe they are, whether they've been published or not. As for me, I'll continue to call myself a jack of all trades, and daydream and doodle and procrastinate like hell and wait until the last possible minute to do freelance assignments and be perfectly happy that I haven't landed myself with a silly label like "writer."