You Know You're a Writer If...

Borrowed from the writer's e-newsletter, Seekerville, here are some sure-fire ways to tell if you're a REAL writer.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A WRITER IF...


Your list of New Year’s Resolutions not only includes your goals but also your motivation and conflict.

You never read a dictionary you didn’t like.

You dream about your WIP and wake to write down a phrase that keeps running through your head.

“Doing lunch” means editing your work while you gobble down a sandwich.

You’d rather spend time in Seekerville than with your non-writer BFF.

You read the first lines of every new book in the bookstore and made note of any agents or editors mentioned in the acknowledgements.

You turn every real life situation into a “What if!”

You never leave home without a pen and paper tucked in your pocket, purse or man bag.

You’d rather sit at your computer than ________ (fill in the activity of your choice).

You can figure out who the villain is by the third chapter of any book you read.
(Not Seeker books, of course.).

Your Christmas Wish List includes the latest How-To Writing book.

You break down every movie you see into 3 Acts and Turning Points.

Your kids know eating pizza 5 nights in a row means mom’s on deadline.

Your kids get tired of pizza after ordering delivery 5 nights in a row.

You jot down snippets of conversations you overhear at Starbucks.

You openly talk in public about how you killed hubby.

You take notes when police chase scenes run on the nightly news.

You spell sassy SASE.

You check caller ID for a New York area code every time the phone rings.

You break down in tears when the kids bring in the mail and say you’ve got a big envelope from the editor who’s had your manuscript for over a year.

You ask your pharmacist the easiest way to poison someone.
(Not the editor, of course.)

The history listing on your laptop includes “How to Make a Bomb” and “Meth for Beginners.”

You’ve never met a cop you didn’t want to interview.

At writing conferences, you realize the women (age 23-27) wearing black and hiding their name tags are all New York editors.

The first section you look at in the Sunday newspaper is the bestsellers’ list.

Rejection means more than a boyfriend dumped you.

“Your baby” refers to 400 pages of Courier New.

Your family vacations each summer in the locale you’ve selected for your next book.

You know query means more than a question.

Along with the dust bunnies under the bed, you’ve also shoved five completed manuscripts rejected by a wide-range of editors, who you call names I won't mention.

You know you can’t judge a book by its cover.

You go to work in a T-shirt and sweat pants.

You know voice has nothing to do with singing.