My husband shared this picture with me today and it speaks to me too much not to be shared.

This is something that he and I have been struggling with for our entire lives but only embraced last year (it was the secret I was talking about in this post actually). The challenge for me is declaring and ‘owning’ that I am, indeed, a writer. For John, it’s that he is an artist.

The difference between a writer and an author

As someone with a background in the book publishing industry, I hold the titles of “writer” and “author” to high regards. Just because you write does not make you a writer.

And it all comes down to something that my first college writing professor said –

Next time someone you meet at a party introduces themselves as a writer, ask them what they’ve written. If they say, “Oh, nothing you’ve ever read,” then they’re not really a writer.

Last spring I had a conversation with Simon Salt about this topic and he pointed me to a very good blog post he wrote on the topic: Author, Writer, Blogger – it’s all the same write?

Here’s how I define it:

To be an author, you need to write something that is published by someone who is not yourself. This means your writing is in a book, a journal, or in a magazine (though periodicals usually mean you’re a journalist) and it was edited and endorsed by someone else, usually your editor and the publisher. Again, not you.

To be a writer, you should have some level of formal training and be paid or endorsed by someone to write. In other words, the transaction of a payment means that someone else has endorsed that you truly are a writer. Can you be a ‘writer’ if you’ve never been paid? Sure, just like I’m an athlete though I’ve never competed in a competition but I’m not going to carry around business cards that declare that.

The point is this – you are what other people say you are and what other people validate you to be. If you’re a writer, like that quote is inferring, people will start to label you as one.

Is that fair? No, not really. So that means you better self-promote the hell out of your work if you want them to notice your writing and call you a writer.

Am I really a writer?

I have been writing since I was seven years old, since before I knew what a paragraph was. In spiral bound notebooks, using colored felt-tipped pens at recess. I did not play kickball or foursquare, I wrote. Harriet-the-Spy-style, but instead of writing down what I was seeing, I wrote stories. And I kept them to myself because I was not brave enough to share them with other people.

It wasn’t until I read blogs like Damsels in Success (which is no more), Penelope Trunk’s Blog, and a year later Matt Chevy’s Life Without Pants that I decided I, too, had shit to say and was brave enough to say it.

And it wasn’t until the evening after publishing my first blog post after seeing the positive response on Twitter and reading my first comments in my friend’s kitchen that it hit me – people wanted to read what I had to say.

I almost threw up.

About ten months later I got my first job as a paid writer based on the writing my client found on my blog. She was the first person to call me a “writer” and it wasn’t until December that I started adopting that title to my friends.

Malcom Gladwell says it takes 10,000 hours or approximately 10 years to become an “expert” at something. While I still have a lot to learn and every thing I write is hard to produce, it’s safe to say I’ve crossed that mark.

Am I really a writer? I have no idea. But I know what I’m doing.

And, yes, I’m scared to death that people will find out that this is exactly who I want to be.

I am starting my own business.

That’s right, a business and I have no idea what it will be yet. I’ve mentioned this to a few people, how I want to start a business but I haven’t had that idea that strikes like a bolt of lightning and makes me say, “holy shit, this is it!”

Actually, that has happened, but I’m still ruminating on it.

There are two things I’m obsessed with: 1) building things, and 2) movements.

The first I know quite a bit about from positions I’ve had over the years. And the second is a relatively new passion that was born out of the love I have of being the voice that connects brands with their customers and from watching organizations like the Girl Effect and Movember harness their communities and ignite a wave of action.

It’s pretty incredible.

So while I research and learn what exactly those two things mean – What do I enjoy most about building things? And what exactly is it about movements that totally draw me in? – and how they’ll work with each other, today, I’m officially coming out as an entrepreneur in training.

I don’t know when I’ll land and settle with an idea that I will want to build, execute, ship, and implement, but it will happen. It’s going to happen. And it will probably happen way sooner than any of us think it will.

And I’m bringing this blog (and you!) with me along the way.

Photo credit: tubb

I have a thought that’s been on the tip of my tongue and in the back of my mind for years. It’s been there, this passion, this desire. But as years move on, priorities shift, and concentrations change, things upon things have been piled on top of it and this idea gets buried deeper and deeper. Now it’s crawling to the surface, cascading through my thoughts like a snowstorm, gaining speed like a typhoon, and consuming me like an avalanche. It wants out.

The evolution of an idea

This idea has an identity all of her own. She’s defining herself based on her actions and celebrating her silent victories. Her voice is gaining momentum and she wants the spotlight that she deserves.

She smells so fresh in the secret little box I keep her in, and I’m nervous to let her out. I’m afraid to let her voice ring from the rooftops, roar louder than thunder, and serenade mightier than my favorite rock band ever could, because that’s exactly what she’ll do. I am anxious about the person she’ll turn me in to.

Truth

I am so close to breathing about her and so uneasy about the force voicing her into existence will mean. It’s one thing to think it and another to speak it. I mentioned it to my sister today, just barely. She said she’s never understood why I haven’t embraced it. I have yet to voice it to John, though I know it won’t surprise him either.

This is something I’ve always wanted, always identified with. It’s so obvious and yet something I’ve kept so far away. It’s holding me back. The only person I’m fooling is me.

Photo Credit: Beatriz AG

Eleven weeks ago I started a new habit of going to CrossFit 3-days-on, 1-day rest, which meant I was working out 5-to-6 times a week, showing up to the evening classes during the week, and somehow making it to the 8am classes on Saturday and Sunday. My non-gym social life was on probation, but my gym life had never been better.

Learning how to do a handstand in a skirt, however, is extra. (Struting my stuff at “Goin’ for Broken” 24 Hours of LeMons at Thunderhill Raceway in California)

Last weekend was the CrossFit Regional Competition, which was the reason for the crazy workout in the first place. I didn’t make the affiliate team for my gym, but here’s what I got out of the competition:

How to establish a goal, and meet it

A year ago I met a woman who competed in a weightlifting competition in Canada, which technically made her an international competitor. This woman was probably twenty years older than me and did not have the body of a stereotypical athlete by any means. But she was strong and humble about her accomplishment. I don’t know if she placed, ranked, or even finished, but she showed up and competed (in spandex nonetheless). At that moment, I had a fleeting thought―I, too, want to be a weightlifting competitor. I race cars, so why not add this to the list?

Granted this was an in-gym competition, but it was a competition all the same. So I think I’ll check that one off my list.

How to become part of a community

From showing up at Local’s under this schedule I became a regular. I received Facebook and text messages whenever I missed a class. We would encourage each other to lift more and work harder. We pushed each other when running 800 meters, 5 rounds, with a 1 minute rest in between because we all hated running but needed to finish the workout and record our times. We became social and went on a hike in the woods after a squat-intensive workout. We started a new tradition of doing handstands whenever, wherever, just because we can.

There’s a lot of love at my gym and I swear it has to do with the kind of bonding that happens during a CrossFit workout. And this love was shown last week during my birthday when I had 3 birthday workouts spread across the entire week. Nothing says “Happy Birthday” like letting the birthday girl choose the workout.

Strength & permission to love your body, a lot

Working out 5-to-6 days a week is grueling only after the first week. The trainers did a great job programming WODs that would work different muscle groups. After week two, I woke up for the 8am Sunday class, stretching and feeling how strong my back was. I could feel the muscles in my body and it was incredible.

I have come to love my body for what it is―something I have worked hard to craft and create. Since I started going to CrossFit, I have gained 10 pounds and dropped a pant size. For the first time in my life my waist has decreased in size. I have amazing shoulders and trapezius muscles that beg for razorback tank tops. My thighs have turned into triangles and I have a six-pack that is starting to peek out from behind my tummy.

And the best part is I have tickets to my own private gun show and tend to flash them when we go out. Just ask to see them, and I’ll show you.

That there’s always room for improvement

I have come a long way in my training, but I’m only 70ish days in. Now that the competition is over I need to maintain this momentum, continue going to the gym on a regular basis, and figure out which side of the Zone/Paleo diet I need to jump on.

I had no illusions that I would make the team―heck, I’m still working on unassisted pullups―but I wanted to do this competition to give myself commitment and results, and that’s exactly what I accomplished.

But I didn’t do it alone, it was my friends Kari, Kevin, and Ed who made sure we all showed up. And Jesse, Abi, and Diedra who kicked our asses in gear and kept things easy (even under the premise of “easy days”).

I want to thank, Kari, especially, for helping me push the “go” button. She planted the idea of jumping into the 40 WOD Challenge as an idea without any peer pressure involved, and that’s exactly what I needed. She helped keep me accountable and our similar strength encouraged healthy competition.

Thank you, Kari, for making sure that I showed up and followed through.

Photo Credit: Doug Chase

Last night I met up with one of my closest friends from college. She’s in town and we haven’t seen each other in about a year. Yes, it’s that kind of friendship.

As we talked, caught up, and jumped forward in each other’s lives, I was reminded what attracted me to her and made me want to be her friend–her strong, sometimes brash personality. This is a woman who speaks her mind and has no fear of letting it be known. She lets you know what she’s thinking when she thinks it and you’re either on the boat or a really intense conversation begins.

I admire people like that.

We met during our first term at Portland State. This friend’s college career started at a community college. She dipped her toes in the water then took time off after landing a pretty decent office job.

That lasted for a few years before she decided that she was tired of waking up each morning and hating that job. She wanted to be happy and not “just get by” in life. So she stepped it up and went to the university. But she didn’t choose an easy liberal arts degree (like, oh, yours truly), she chose structural engineering. Engineering. This chick wanted to go play with the “the big boys,” and play she did.

It was not easy. She worked herself through school and piled on the student loans to help make her dream possible. It was hard. But she never quit. Not this time.

I admire determination.

After five years in school, this friend graduated last spring and scored a pretty sweet job in her industry. Her career has started. And last night at dinner, I could see the hardness soften a bit on her. She was proud of herself. And I was proud of her, too.

Sure, there’s other stuff going on in her life that’s not all unicorns and rainbows, but in this one aspect of her life she is happy. She’s still bullish, strong, and her personality can be overwhelming, but it’s so fucking exciting to see someone I care about actually make it–see someone dream big, build goals, and make it happen.

I admire results.

Over at The Squab this week, Shane Mac wrote a powerful post about enabling others to meet their dreams. Enabling in a good way. He asks you to:

Stop letting people talk about stuff and actually enable them to do it. Help them tackle the fear of just starting. Eliminate all the cant’s, no’s, and wont’s before you even tell them to do it.

I like to think that I helped this friend meet her goal. And after I finished the most amazing rainbow sushi roll of my life, I let her know that I’m still here. Still available if she needs a place to vent, a shoulder for support, or someone to let her know that new decisions she’s about to make on are okay. That the next change she makes in life–whatever it may be–as long as it’s right for herself, I am here to support here.

That’s all I can do. That’s what friends should do.

I want to encourage my friends, not zap their dreams. And I hope, expect, require that my friends do the same for me. Obviously, however, if I’m on a path of self-destruction, please let me know (gently).

So as I pat myself on the back and wear a “gold star” of friendship today, I want you hear from you–how have you enabled your friends? Or how did you get rid of a dream zapper?