I spent the last week in April at the Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA) conference in Santa Fe. During one of the evening meet-and-greets, I was introduced to the woman in charge of blogs for the Northern California region. I mentioned my quilting sci-fi novels, and offered to write a blog about my experience as a new member at my first SAQA conference. She agreed, so I asked about editorial guidelines.
“Oh, I’m not concerned about that,” she said. “You’re the professional writer.”
I was surrounded by women making a living as artists, and she called me the professional. I was stunned and almost protested. Then I realized, yes, I should call myself a professional writer.
Even before joining CWC, I took classes and read books on the art of writing. Since then, I’ve had more opportunities to take workshops, submit stories to contests, and work with editors and critique groups. I have honed my craft and become a better writer. Still, the step between training to be a writer and acknowledging myself as a writer is daunting. For as much as family and friends have encouraged, supported and affirmed my goals, I realized that I had not made that step until someone else—a stranger—said the words.
I’m constantly advised to grasp every opportunity to promote myself and my writing. I can testify that the advice is sound. Not only do I have a chance to let a whole new group of potential readers know about me and my books, I received an affirmation I had not realized I wanted or needed.