Killing the Cat

Are you a REAL writer?

If you haven’t seen the question, Are writers born or made? at least fifty times since you took up scribbling, then chances are you’re young in writing terms or a serious slacker and haven’t been reading the manuals.

It’s a silly question because it is unanswerable. Most writers dash off reams of drivel in the early days before competence rears its head, and if you do turn out to be a writer (and that has nothing to do with sales figures) who can say whether it was destined from the day you got your first rejection from your mother’s womb – or not?

The question is common because almost every writer, at some stage, asks themselves. Can I really write? Am I a writer? The uncertain can only answer this in their twilight years (nothing to do with Stephenie Meyer sagas).

If you’re still writing when hair, teeth, sex drive, and school friends have vanished or become hugely diminished, then chances are you qualify. And you’ve likely arrived at that conclusion before you’re totally bald and gummy.

But I can tell you a sure way of knowing if you’re NOT a writer. If you haven’t got an excess of curiosity, then chances are you fail the entrance exam.

Curiosity not only kills the cat, it also fuels a writer’s existence. You never escape from its demands. You have a desire to take the back off life to see what makes the cogs and wheels go round, and when you reassemble the bits they never go together the same way. But the permutations and possibilities are so fascinating you never stop poking and wondering, what if?

If you don’t have sacks of curiosity, then you’ll only be a hobby penman, diarist, occasional dabbler, or just a reader.

On the other hand, even if you do, you might just be nosy