I’m very proud of my blog: I’m proud that I’ve now kept it up so long, and that I have managed to update it so regularly. As a writer, I see it as my primary output. Yet, recently, the fact that I have never had anything published has been getting to me a bit: to legitimately call myself a writer, surely I have to have had something printed, published and on book shelves. The fact that I don’t kind of upsets me: does it mean that I am a failure as a writer?

Yet we all know how competitive the publishing industry is. These days, everyone sees their self as a writer vying to get published; everyone sees them self as the next JK Rowling. To be honest, knowing how fickle the publishing industry is has put me off. While I have written a few things of just about printable length, the fact is I’ve not even tried sending them to publishers for fear of rejection. Perhaps it’s an issue of confidence, but I don’t feel good enough.

Besides, the fact is that the only reason anyone might need to have something published is for people to buy it and thus to make money, and, without wanting to go into detail, I am financially secure. Revenue is not the reason I write: I write primarily in order to convey my thoughts and feelings to the wider world. I think it’s important that I tell everyone what life is like for a man with Cerebral Palsy living more or less alone in South London. To serve that purpose, I think a blog is ideal: here I can express myself daily, articulating my thoughts and experiences in short, quick bursts which might otherwise be forgotten. I know my entries aren’t often very long, but anything longer would be less direct and risk getting bogged down.

Can I call myself a writer without having anything published? I think I can – I certainly call myself a blogger. The fact that I haven’t had anything pass a publisher’s scrutiny is still a bit of a point of shame for me though. A few years ago, my friend from university, Alex McMillan, sent me a copy of his first published text, a 250 page book called A Working Class Hero, and part of me feels embarrassed that I haven’t followed him into print. Yet I keep telling myself that that doesn’t mean I’m a failure as a writer. Here, on my weblog, is where I write; it’s where my writing can be read, daily, by just about the entire online world. It might not be writing in the traditional sense: it might not be very long, have had much editing, or gained a publisher’s approval. Yet, through it, I can tell the world who I am: I am a writer.