Saturday, January 4, 2014

Email Signatures and Internal Dialogue

Email signatures look so official. Those automatic signatures or company titles and designations people create to conclude their emails.

I was really excited when I created my first signature. It said that I was a freelance editor and proofreader, and it gave the name of my business and my website.

Lately, though, I've been wondering. Do I want to be known only for being a freelance editor and proofreader? Is there more to me than that? More that I want others to know about me when they open my email?

So, with terror and elation, I changed my signature this week.

Now, it looks like this:

My Name
Author, Poet, Freelance Editor and Proofreader

And then my blog link and website link.

I feel presumptuous.

My internal critic says, "Wait a second, you're not an author until you've written something."

Well, I reply, I HAVE written something. I wrote a terrible Christian romance novel, when I was in high school.

"That doesn't count," my critic counters. "You need to have something PUBLISHED."

I've HAD something published: four poems.

"But no fiction or nonfiction."

Not for lack of trying. What am I supposed to put? "Writer, Poet, . . ."?

"You're not really a writer, either. Writers actually write. You procrastinate."

All right, so I need another blue chip.

"Deny it."

I can't. But . . . I remember something that makes me smile. I'm writing for this blog. And it's published.

So far, my internal critic has stayed silent.

Point for me.


  1. You are a writer now! And it was NOT a terrible Christian romance novel. I still remember it, and as much as I read, that's saying something!

    1. Okay, it wasn't as horrific a Christian romance as it could have been, but it certainly isn't something I'd pull out of my back files and ship to a publisher for consideration. My sisters and I have decided to go through it at some point to mark all the inconsistencies and impossibilities (I wrote a scene in which the hero helps the heroine up from the ground and then, without breaking eye contact with her, bends all the way back down to the ground to pick up her crutches and hand them to her. My sisters and I reenacted that scene with total glee. Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually physically accomplish that?) and then maybe see if it can be resurrected (or revised enough, at least, for public consumption). We'll see!


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