Some honest thoughts about writing as an identity
Linkedin inspired me to write this blog post! And that’s definitely not something I ever thought I’d write.
Just after Christmas I logged into Linkedin for the first time in months - possibly in over a year.
I had been invited to a dinner in London by Squarespace - a meet up of their professional UK-based designers, hosted by the company itself.
The only photo I took that night!
I was so confused when I got the invite and saw the list of the other attendees - why had they asked me?
Our old friend imposter syndrome.
But then I thought: well, I guess I have been a Squarespace Circle member for more than five years now, and I have built at least 40 websites on Squarespace in that time (probably more - I did 18 last year alone).
After the dinner, a few people I’d met added me as a connection on Linkedin.
That’s when I realised:
a) people do actually use Linkedin 😱;
and
b) it was probably quite weird for them to meet me at an industry dinner for web designers and then go onto my Linkedin page to discover that writing novels was actually my ‘career’
So I added ‘web designer’ to my profile.
I also put it on my Instagram bio.
But in doing so, I felt a tinge of… something.
I don’t know.
Failure? Shame? Disappointment?
I am a writer.
That’s an intrinsic, inherent part of my identity. It’s one of the things that makes me me. It’s something that I’ve carried with me as a marker of who I am - like: blonde hair, blue eyes, chocolate addiction, allergic to organised fun - for as long as I could read and write.
I have always written. I have always wanted to be a writer. It’s all I’ve ever done. All the money I ever earned before I did web design was from writing - first as a journalist, then as a content marketer, then as a novelist.
But I sat at this dinner and listened to the interesting chat about SEO and ChatGPT (yes, I genuinely do find this interesting 😉) and even though I felt massive imposter syndrome and super shy, I also felt SO happy to be around all these people who knew more about this stuff than me and I thought, oh, yeah, I guess I am a web designer too.
Then it struck me: I have been running my web design business for longer than ANY of the other ‘normal’ jobs I’ve ever had.
Even the content marketing agency I ran with a business partner, which had an office and staff and turned over a quarter of a million a year.
And yet, I had been reluctant to add ‘web designer’ as my job on Linkedin.
It felt like some kind of failure, a betrayal of my own identity.
The stupid thing is I love being a web designer. I genuinely, absolutely love it.
When I got my life-changing American book deal (that did change my life but not in the way I was expecting), and I had two books to write in one year, I realised I was going to have to park my web design business for a bit.
Of course, at first, I actually thought: hey, this is it! I’ve done it! I’ve got the hallowed six-figure book deal from a NY Big 5 publisher, now I can be an author full-time - I’ve ARRIVED! Finally, THANK BLOODY GOD I’m not completely delusional after all.
But I also thought: oh my god I’ve put so much work into my web design business, what a waste, and I felt monumentally sad at the thought of just letting it all go.
Like heartbreakingly sad.
I didn’t want to stop building what I had been building. I loved it. I loved my clients. I loved the work. I loved everything about it.
I felt really conflicted.
Anyway, we all know how the story ends - the US book deal did change my life in that we got to buy a new house which I love and am grateful for every day, but the book - like so many, alas - has not yet changed the world and eighteen months after it came out, things have pretty much gone back to how they were before I got that exciting email from my agent.
But the weird thing was that, rather than being upset, a big part of me was SO pleased to be able to pick up the reins of my web design business yet again.
I looked over all the content I had created - all the hours of blog posts and free training videos and advice - and I read all the testimonials from my happy clients - and I thought: wow, I did this all by myself. And this is good stuff.
(And then I thought about all the hours I’d spent writing and wondered how much more successful my web design business would have been if I’d channelled all that time into it instead of writing books that only a handful of people read 😆)
But anyway.
That longwinded intro was really there because it got me thinking about writing, and how if you are a writer, it’s such a huge part of your identity.
However, there’s this other thing that gets added into the mix, and if you’re not careful, it can truly mess with your head.
You know what this other thing is called, right?
PUBLISHING.
It is SO important to separate the two in your mind.
I recently received a rejection of my writing (not from a publisher, but for something else).
And it hurt SO MUCH.
It was like someone was saying:
Sorry, your work isn’t important. Your work isn’t interesting. We don’t think you deserve to be in the room where it happens. Who exactly do you think you are, to call yourself a writer?
Now, I’ve had a million rejections in myriad forms in my time as an author. I can take the bad reviews because there are always good reviews and no book is for everyone; I can take ‘sorry but this isn’t a good fit for our list’ because it’s probably true and editors can’t buy every book that’s submitted to them; I can take my agent or editor telling me that the book doesn’t work because I can work on it until it does.
But this was different.
This made me feel like a fraud. It made me feel humiliated, small, insignificant.
Deluded, again.
In truth, it felt like a rejection of me and my identity. Like someone was telling me I was wrong about myself my whole life.
But I took some deep breaths, and I thought about it a bit more.
And I reminded myself of the most important lesson I had learnt on this journey: that the publishing industry and writing are two separate things.
Here’s what I’ve learnt about the publishing industry:
Publishing will pull you down, but writing lifts you up.
Writing is the antidote to publishing. Writing is ALWAYS worthwhile. It is its own reward.
Publishing is a club, run by fallible people like any other - people with their own foibles and prejudices and networks and preferences - and sometimes your face doesn’t fit or you don’t look right and you won’t get in.
I am still a writer whether or not my book gets published. You are still a writer whether or not your book gets published.
You are still a writer even if your book gets published and is then a great big massive flop (you can borrow my t-shirt!).
You are still a writer even if your book gets published and everyone hates it.
The process of writing is a million times more enjoyable when you are not thinking about publishing (as borne out by my friends who are out of contract extolling how much happier they feel to be writing just for themselves again).
Writing what you want to write is the most important thing you can do for yourself. It is therapy, an act of self-love, a healing practice. ITS OWN REWARD! 😂
I am more of a truthful writer if my books don’t get published. Some of the rawness and honesty of my books is edited away in the publishing process to make them more palatable to a wider audience, and that is a shame.
And on that note - to be a successful commercial author, you might have to write something that’s not 100% authentic. Is it selling out? Yes, but publishing is a business.
Publishing is a business. And businesses aren’t really in the business of caring about your soul, or your sense of self, or your authenticity or your artistic expression. But that doesn’t make your writing bad, or wrong, or unworthy.
On some level, I might feel like I’ve failed as a writer to have another job on my Linkedin profile but there’s so much richness to find in your experiences outside of writing. Experiences that teach you things. And most importantly of all, experiences that put publishing into perspective.
The bit that matters and touches my soul and makes me feel good about myself is the writing itself - when I know I am being honest and I have tapped into something pure and authentic.
I am still a writer, no matter what external things happen to me. I am still a writer, no matter that my six-figure book didn’t become a global bestseller. I am still a writer, no matter how the publishing industry judges the significance of my output.
And I am still a writer, no matter that I love designing websites as much as I love writing.
I am still a writer, and I always will be.
And you will too ❤️
