Writing

It used to be (back in highschool) that I was known as a writer. Sometimes I was even known as the writer. It was such a part of my identity and I loved it. I loved making up stories, writing them down, shopping them around (to my friends).

And then college came and the production decreased. Also, I wasn't around the same people I'd been around for so long so I lost that public perception of my identity. I probably wasn't known for much of anything in college, though I did do the radio show for 4 years, so there was that. And there was writing for that.

And after college, I wrote even less, though I was still creating -- made a couple short movies, did some interactive development and design stuff, wrote copy for things. ...

And now I do some flyer design and web design and other stuff that feels (I think) like it gives me the same pleasure that writing used to.

But here's the thing: people (from back then) still ask me, "Are you still writing?" And I never know how to answer them. Mostly I'm inclined to just say "no" because I'd love to avoid the conversation that involves questions like, "What do you write?" and "Have you been published?"

In this day and age, what with your computers and your internets, you've got so many different avenues for expression. Over the past several years, I've written more words into blogs and things of that nature (I was blogging before it was called blogging, dammit -- by hand! in a flat HTML file!) but I don't really consider it "writing" -- it's just... I don't know. "Typing"?

I've written three or four "big" things since college. Three of them were/are for NaNoWriMo and one of them was a rambling and highly experimental Beckettian blather-fest. But it was kinda cool.

Uh, where was I? Dunno.

....I'll just end with a funny story. A couple months ago, Gregory (my brother) and I were having dinner with several family & friends and someone said something about me being a writer. Some present who didn't know me said, "Oh, you're a writer?" and in order to nip the conversation in the bud, I just said, "Nope." Confusion spread across the table. I realized immediately that I'd probably just made a faux pas, but I wasn't at my conversational best that weekend and I knew it.
Fast-forward to last week when G and I are at Morseland and Gregory says to someone else almost by way of introduction, "Adam's not a writer." And that is why sometimes he can be the funniest dude on Earth.