The first step?

Today I’m celebrating. Maybe prematurely – we’ll see – but I need to note the fact that this morning I sent a draft of an article to a local publisher, for inclusion in their magazine.

This article was … well, if I say “commissioned” that makes it sound very grand and official, when in actual fact I was working in the publishers’ office proofreading a recent publication when the editor started moaning about not having enough content for next month’s magazine. He glanced at me and asked if I could write, I said yes, we bounced a few ideas around and the upshot is the village history piece I’ve just sent him.

Now, at 1400 words the draft is 400 words too long, so it may end up being hacked about beyond recognition or indeed rejected out of hand – which is why I wonder whether celebrations are premature. However, I’ve written it – me, doing my own research, interviewing people (well, talking to the head of the village school) and putting together a coherent narrative. And if it’s published I’ll get paid for it – not a huge amount, but enough to make it worthwhile. It’s not great literature, but it’s well put together, well researched and reasonably well written. If I do say so myself.

The magazine is delivered to homes across three counties, so lots of people will see my name, attached to my words. They might even read the article. It’s a free ad-mag-type publication, so hardly Vanity Fair, but it’s glossy, well produced and highly thought-of in the local area. As the context for my first piece of paid writing, it could be worse. If the editor likes it I know he has ideas for other pieces he’d like to include in future issues, so there’s the distinct possibility of more work as well.

Having proofread previous issues of the same magazine I know the quality of the articles that find their way in, and I feel reasonably confident that I won’t be humiliated by my own humble scribblings. One or two of the pieces that almost made it to print in previous issues were so bad that I had to practically rewrite them in sections during the proofing process – at the risk of setting myself up for a fall when my draft comes back with the equivalent of “Must try harder” scrawled over it, my stuff is miles better.

So, next time someone asks me what I do, I’m not going to say “I’m at home with the kids” (although I am). I’m not going to say “I’m a freelance proofreader and copy-editor” (although I am). I’m not even going to say “I’m a teaching assistant at a special needs college” (although I will be next week).

I’m going to say, with honesty, great pride, and a quiet rush of joy, “I’m a writer.”

~ by Hawthorn on June 5, 2009.