The Power of One Decision in a Writer’s Life

Have you made the “one decision” as a writer?

For years, I worked on writing while in a state of indecision.

I was committed. I stuck to a regular writing routine; read books, magazines, and online posts about craft; tore apart my stories to figure out structure; and hired a book editor at one point to further my education.

I entered contests. I submitted to publishers. I tried and tried again.

By every outside indication, I was a writer.

But internally, I hadn’t yet made that decision.

Maybe you’re in the same place. You’ve spent years committed to writing, but you have one key decision yet to make.

To be a writer. No matter what.

How do you know you haven’t made it? Find out below. Until you make this decision, you can’t expect to truly live the life of a writer.

How to Tell if You’re a Writer Who Hasn’t Yet “Made the One Decision”

I’d say for at least half of my writing career, I thought I was serious about it. But in truth, I was like that partner in a relationship with one foot out the door.

I know other writers have done the same because I hear from them. “What if I don’t get published?” they say. “What if my books don’t sell?” Or, “I want to quit my day job, but so far it’s not happening. Am I just wasting my time?” Or, “I just got a bad review. I guess my stuff isn’t that great. Maybe I should try something else.”

These questions come from writers who haven’t yet made “the decision.”

What decision am I talking about? The crucial and often difficult decision to be a writer.

You may think I’m talking nonsense. “Of course I’ve made the decision,” you say. “I’m writing, aren’t I?”

That’s not the same as making the decision. I spent years writing and doing all the things a writer does, and I still hadn’t made the decision.

How You Can Tell If You’ve Made the One Decision

How can you tell? In addition to the examples above, here are some more:

  • When things don’t go well, you consider giving up writing.
  • You often question whether you should be writing or not.
  • You make agreements with yourself, like, “I’ll be a writer when I get published,” or “I’ll be a writer when my book becomes a bestseller,” or “I’ll be a writer when…” fill in the blank.
  • You allow outside events to sway your commitment to writing.
  • You spend your writing life in a constant state of questioning: Am I really a writer? Do I have the talent? Should I be doing this?
  • You’re like a leaf in the wind, sometimes feeling like your writing career is secure, other times feeling like you’re wasting your time.

If this sounds familiar, don’t worry about it. It’s extremely common for writers to feel all these things and more. Who are we to think we can succeed at this? And who wouldn’t doubt their ability after a rejection, bad review, poor sales, or any of the other many things we go through that shake our confidence?

What It Means to Make the one Decision

But here’s the thing: if you’re still in a place where you’re questioning whether or not you are a writer, or should be a writer, or have the talent to be a writer, or any of those other similar feelings, that means one thing—you haven’t yet decided to be a writer.

When a person gets married, one expects the person has decided to be with the other person, no matter what. For better, for worse, as they say. There is no more questioning. No more debating the issue. It’s decided.

The same sort of thing occurs when a writer decides: I’m a writer. Like it or not. No matter what you think. I’m writing because I’ve decided writing is important to me. I’m a writer.

Warning: I don’t believe this is something you can do by simply saying something like, “I’m a writer.” I’m not advocating for empty affirmations. In my experience, it doesn’t happen until you’ve been through a few trials in your writing life.

Why Making the One Indecision is Difficult for Writers

What does it mean to make this decision?

Personally, it meant years of pain, because indecision is just that—painful.

“Indecision isn’t just inconvenient,” writes Natalie Rahhal in the Daily Mail, “it can be downright painful.”

This was the case for me, and I imagine many other writers as well. It’s painful to be devoting time and effort to writing, to choose writing over other activities, to spend precious time on writing when we haven’t decided we’re writers.

It makes it even more painful to receive a rejection or a poor review because these things bring up that indecision, causing a writer to go through it all over again. Should I be doing this? Am I wasting my time? What if I do all this and end up with nothing?

We must deal with the guilt that comes out of these thoughts—guilt for the time we spent writing when we could have been doing something else for somebody else, or something else that would have contributed more directly to our family’s well being, or any number of other things we imagine to be more worthwhile.

Somehow we rally and try again, but we don’t fully decide, so we set ourselves up for future pain and more indecision and in essence, a very difficult and strung-apart existence.

What It Means to Decide to Be a Writer

What does it mean to decide to be a writer?

It’s more than just saying you’re a writer. If you’ve never said it, then yes, that can be a big step, but truly deciding to be a writer involves more than that.

As I look back on my 20-plus years of writing, I realize that I’ve been working up to this decision the whole time, but I didn’t truly make it until a short while ago.

For me, the change didn’t show up on the outside. I’m still doing the same things I’ve always done as far as writing and pursuing a writing career are concerned. I have been and continue to be dedicated to the process of writing, and everything that goes with it.

Instead, it’s an internal shift…and an exciting one. The more I acknowledge this decision, the more I feel it taking root inside of me, and the more secondary changes I’ve noticed as a result.

“Taking root” is a good way to put it. Each time we go through some sort of writing-related heartache and decide to continue writing anyway, we cement writing’s role in our lives.

Science Supports the Idea of Choosing What You Want to Be

There’s scientific evidence that supports this. Researchers from the University of Melbourne found via brain scans that every time we choose something—like our writing—we may build up a preference for that choice.

Every time we make a small decision to return to writing after a setback, perhaps we’re building up a preference to stick with writing, come what may. There is something to be said for going through the hardships and sticking with it, because then one day we look up and say, “You know what, I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore what anyone says, whether the books sell or don’t, what the agents or publishers think, or how many of my efforts fail. I’m a writer. And that’s that.”

Once you make that decision and feel it settle inside you, a few things happen.

First, you’re less likely to be blown about by outside opinions.

Sure, a rejection or a poor review still hurts, but it doesn’t throw you back into that painful state of indecision. It doesn’t make you question whether you should keep writing. You grieve, you pick yourself back up, and you write some more.

Second, you gain a sense of freedom.

Sometimes it takes a little while, but it’s a delicious feeling, and you may notice it bleeding into your writing. As you care less about what others think or how your book may do in front of agents, editors, or the market, you may begin to feel more freedom on the page.

You are the writer. It’s up to you how the story unfolds. Completely up to you, so why not experiment? Why not be a little braver in your approach? Why not bring your entire self to the task, and give it your all?

We think we do this every time we write, but once you’ve been through a series of disappointments and you make that decision to be a writer, the market be damned, you are likely to notice a slight shift in your emotions—even a new sense of power because making a decision empowers you.

Third, once you make the decision that you are a writer, you define your purpose.

And doing so—surprisingly enough—may bring you a different level of success than you’ve experienced before.

Of course, nothing may change as far as how your writing is received in the world. But there’s something that happens when you decide. Oprah Winfrey is quoted as saying, “Nothing happens until you decide. Make a decision and watch your life move forward.”

Decide that you’re a writer. It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do in your writing career. You can’t force it, nor can you rush it. When it does come, take it from me—writing gets even better after that.

Have you decided to be a writer, no matter what?