How I learnt to call myself a writer

There is no secret to writing. There is no magic formula. The only thing you can do is call yourself a writer and give yourself permission to write.

A fear of rejection and lack of self confidence are two of the main reasons that budding writers continue to dream but never put their dreams into practice. It is so easy to hide behind the excuses. A busy working life. A busy family life. A busy social life. When really it is none of things. I can sympathise, believe me I can. For so many years I was one them. I gave myself excuse after excuse, while at the time knowing the real reason. That if this dream remained a dream, it would always be insulated in a protective bubble of hope. It would never be subject to criticism. It would never die.

As a British Indian novice writer, with no Creative Writing MA, no writing awards, no journalism or publishing background to my name, I never seriously considered a career as a writer. Not because I didn’t think it was a legitimate career path but because I didn’t think it was a legitimate career path for me. None of my family are writers (most of my family are barely readers). I can count on one hand the number of female Indian writers that are renowned globally. Lawyers. Doctors. Accountants. Dentists. Yep, there are plenty of those. But successful Indian writers, not so much.

For my birthday last year, I asked my partner to enrol me on the Curtis Brown Creative Starting to Write Your Novel six week writing course. A small part of it was growing older and getting bored of the typical ‘‘three course meal at a nice restaurant’’ type present but if I’m honest with myself, it was more than that. I wanted some tangible way of telling myself that I meant business. I wanted to call myself a writer. I wanted other people to see me as one.

The course itself was interesting. I met a handful of lovely people and read some incredible work. I learnt a lot about the writing process. But the real asset was in how it changed my mindset. I received feedback on my work. I gave feedback to others. Without thinking about it, I was immersing myself in the world of writing. At the end of the course we had the opportunity to submit the first 3000 words of a WIP for critique. I didn’t have a novel in mind. I hadn’t really intended to write one but I put something together and sent it off (with zero expectations).

To my disbelief, the report wasn’t terrible. My novel idea (that wasn’t really an idea) showed promise. There was a long way to go but in this report I saw a glimmer of light. Someone in this seemingly impenetrable world was validating my work. The ‘it will never happen’ suddenly became a ‘it could happen’.

On a whim, I decided to apply for the selective Curtis Brown Creative Writing a Novel course. It wasn’t cheap and I could barely afford it (I opted for the paying instalments option and even that was a struggle). But I knew that this was a now or never moment. I needed something or someone to hold me accountable. I needed validation. So I made a bet with myself that if I secured a place on the course, I would have to write my novel. And that’s how it all began.

I understand that writing courses aren’t an option for everyone and I appreciate how fortunate I was to have the means to apply for them. But for me, they were an essential part of this journey. I was unable to take to the laptop and believe in the value of my words. I was unable to hold myself accountable. The truth is that was unable to call myself a writer until someone else told me I could be.