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I have heard this sentence, or a version of it, from almost every person I have worked with. "I am not really a writer." "I just do this for fun." The qualifier that keeps the making at arm's length.
Where did it come from? When did you decide that what you do does not count?
Most people can trace it to a specific moment or person. A teacher who did not take the work seriously. A parent who made clear that this was a nice hobby but not a real path. The qualifier was installed by something external and has been maintained internally ever since.
The criterion I use is different: whether you are paying genuine attention to something and finding a form that lets it be seen.
By this criterion, the accountant writing poetry no one has read is a real poet. The truck driver carving wood on weekends is a real craftsman. The credential is the attention and the care. You already have it.
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