I am a writer. No, seriously, I am. Just as having a camera doesn’t make someone a photographer, having a pen or a laptop does not make anyone a writer. Being a writer is an immeasurable amount of work. It requires an understanding of language, grammar, composition and having the organized yet creative brain to put all these ingredients together.
But perhaps my just saying that I’m a writer isn’t enough for the skeptic lurking inside your brain. Possibly my awards, published works or the crowds which I have performed for over the last two decades still aren’t going to convince you. Maybe, just maybe, even the money I’ve made isn’t enough to squash that tiny voice in your head which insists that a girl with a stupid name could never be a “writer”. Okay, I’ll give in to your inability to take my word for it. In the early 90s I didn’t believe that I should be called a writer either. My minuscule ego at the time presumed that I needed more awards to validate my title. That’s when David Foster Wallace came into my life. He assured me that not only was I a writer, but that I was already quite good. If you are unaware of exactly who David Foster Wallace is, then we probably shouldn’t have this conversation. You’re really not in a position to question whether or not I am a writer. I’m sorry, but it’s true.
Now that we have established that I am a writer, let’s move onto the topics up for discussion. Am I a “douche bag”? Glossing over the fact that douchebag is one word and not two, I’ll admit that I had to look up the technical function of this item. For those of you non-writers out there, to say someone is an intimate object is a metaphor. I know metaphors quite well, they are a staple in both my poetry and prose. I have even taught workshops on similes and metaphors. So, am I metaphorically a douchebag? One would think there is validity in this statement. It’s been used in conjunction with my name over 30 times on Twitter and is posted multiple times on a “blog” and the Facebook pages of that blog’s owner. Granted, one wouldn’t have to go far to reach the conclusion that over 100 tweets in 48 hours resembles more of a psychotic temper tantrum than a person stating facts, but the question has now been raised.