I am a writer.... I think....

Yesterday I was doing a lot of running around - felt like the proverbial headless chicken - as I try to get my house and acreage ready to sell. I had lots of short trips in the car and so lots of time for thinking short thoughts- and what went through my worn out and overly stressed neuronal pathways was a real awareness that I don't actually seem to consider any writing I do as real writing unless it's on a novel. 

I'm 1/3 of the way through the second book of the Cleah: The Lost Fury Chronicles but there simply isn't time in my overbooked days to work on it. So, I have a perspective that I'm not writing and I get myself all tied up in knots over that. However, in the later afternoon yesterday I was on one of my trips to pick up some bark mulch to improve the looks of a garden area and it hit me that I have to stop being so elitist with myself and accept that I have other writing platforms and the words I contribute there really do count as writing. For example, I'm a parenting expert at an ezine and I write two articles a month for them. I do a couple of other sites like that as well, and I have another blog. 

Of course, that doesn't give life to the stories that live in my head - but it's still writing. I need to keep repeating that to myself and entrench the concept in my neural fibres. I am a writer, I am a writer, I am a writer, I am a writer - nope - not there yet but I'll keeping working on it.