Can I Call Myself a Writer If I Haven’t Made Any Money Writing?

What do you do?

For the aspiring writer, this staple of the smalltalk handbook can be the source of major anxiety. My own answer to this question varies depending on my mood. I usually respond with whatever day job I currently have, as it tends to elicit less tricky follow up questions. If I’m feeling insecure I may respond with a laundry list of the many side hustles and industry adjacent gigs that I’m involved with, as if to say “look how busy I am! Isn’t that impressive?” Only if I’m feeling a rush of confidence will I puff out my chest and proclaim that yes, I am a writer.

But why should this question be so scary? I am a writer. I know this like I know the sun is hot or that water is wet. Is it fair that I feel unworthy of the title because the world has not yet validated my passion with a paycheck? Emily Dickenson only had a handful of poems published before she died; and Van Gogh only sold one painting before he bit the bullet. And ok, I’m not comparing myself to either of those people, but I wonder if they felt self-conscious about referring to themselves as artists, too.

I realize that when people ask “what do you do?” they’re usually just making polite chit-chat and not asking you to reveal your innermost dreams and desires, but there’s something so unsatisfying and wrong about saying that you wait tables, or work at a school, or drive for Uber. I think this is because our society places so much emphasis on our careers defining our self worth that we feel less-than when we are pressured into admitting that we aren’t yet living up to our creative potential. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with waiting tables or any job that pays the bills, but they just don’t feel like us, do they? They don’t carry the same sense of wholeness and rightness as saying “I’m a writer.”

Lately, I’ve been giving a two-part answer to this question. I’ll say that I’m a writer, and if they ask what publication I write for or if I’m on a TV show, I’ll just reply honestly with something along the lines of “right now I’m working on X and looking to shop it around. I also work at (insert current day job).” This way my answer satisfies their question and satisfies my own desire to call myself a writer.

This still doesn’t address the often unspoken second half of the question, which is “what do you do…for a living?” This is why it’s so hard to give an answer that’s outside of how you earn your paycheck, because it feels a little dishonest. People aren’t asking what you’re passionate about, they’re asking you about your profession.

So what makes someone a professional? To me, a professional is someone who possesses expertise, competence, dedication, a desire to continually improve, and a high standard for their work. If this describes you, then I’d say you’re a professional. Making money really has nothing to do with it. I could call myself a producer and pay you $10 right now for the last screenplay you wrote. Does that make you a writer? If not, what’s the minimum amount of money you’d need to make in order to be considered one?

The point is, I don’t think there’s a universally accepted way to quantify how and when someone "becomes" a writer. It’s just something that you are because you feel it. Ultimately, the way you answer the “what do you do?” question is up to you and what you feel comfortable sharing with people. But if your goal is to have other working professionals consider you to be a writer, it might be time to start identifying as one yourself.