A Thing or Two about Writing

As I wind up my to-do list for the day, I am filled with thoughts. Thoughts about how my profession happened to me, about writing among many others. Here's the thing- I am a consultant working in a firm providing many services that involve writing in many different forms and shapes for clients. I write for a living, basically. Does that mean I am a writer? Well, that is the question for this evening.

 

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If I had to backtrack to where it all began, perhaps there was no beginning. I had thoughts and a successful track record of good English teachers in a suburban school who made sure that English was taught right to me. That's all there is to this story. Ever since I knew that English classes would allow me to write on whatever there is on my head, I grew fonder-of English and writing. Writing grew up with me. I wrote my thoughts mostly. I did not consider writing for school and college assignments involved the "writing" writing. You know?  But I always wanted to be a writer. To write in any form, to play with words that stimulate brains or touch hearts was the goal. 

Fast forward to 2022, I landed a job as an associate consultant in a social impact firm. The hiring process had little to no amount of writing. In contrast, my job involves writing mountains of reports, scripts and whatnot. The first time I wrote a full-fledged report as an associate, the ex-teacher in my manager should have been the happiest. The copy was filled with copious amounts of suggestions and comments which can be equated to red pen corrections on the answer sheet of a student. The imagined writer in me had spiralled and coiled down to feel so tiny, almost invisible. Besides, being surrounded by a community of individuals who reek of intelligence and spell wisdom in every word they utter had made my thoughts shudder. But the ex-teacher's red marks helped profusely! A few months and many reports and scripts later, she let me produce a report without her perusal. 

Through the many ebbs and flows of my professional and personal life, my writing changed its course, for the better. Writing spills over thinking and vice versa, you see. The long periods of hibernation and the many silly and also profound experiences of adulting synthesised into thoughts and...slowly trickled down to my writing.  But is that all there is to writing? What about the many backspaced paragraphs that did not see the faces of their readers? Deep down, I know that the number of backspaced paragraphs and words won't see their end. They amount to the thoughts that invigorate the writing. 

But what constitutes a good writer or a writer?  Rather in my case, what makes me a professional who could "be consulted" about writing itself? In short, am I good at my job, at writing? That's a thought I am going to sit with, at my desk for the rest of my time working here. Or perhaps, for the rest of the time my heart desires to write.