Just by looking at me, could you tell I’m a writer?

Writing is obviously my main vehicle for expressing myself but unless you’re reading my blog posts, book or reviews, nobody would guess I am a writer. Writing is not something that can be worn on the outside like a doctor’s stethoscope, a nurse’s scrub or a police badge. Showing off a pen nowadays does not necessarily bring out an association with writing. Neither does carrying a laptop, an iPad (in spite of its what-will-your-verse-be commercial), or anything with a keyboard.
It may not be polite or correct, but people do make a judgment based on our exteriors. Otherwise, why the preoccupation with designer’s labels and status brands? Even if there were a universally agreed upon and recognized symbol to represent writers, I would probably not wear it. I rarely brag about being a writer. It is not information I will likely volunteer on first meetings. Yet, it is something I like to surprise people with. Being able to write–to express my thoughts and feelings and to create new worlds by stringing words together–is like wielding a superpower, or even better, magic. So I fancy the writer in me as a sort of secret identity. I want to remain approachable and ordinary so that I can observe and eavesdrop on the world around me. I’m afraid that if people knew I could write, they would keep me at an arm’s length (even though experience so far has proven me wrong). Maybe one day, I’ll buy myself one of those necklaces with the word “Writer” etched on the pendant and slip it on for all to see. In the meantime, I proudly wear an invisible badge and revel in practicing and sharing my superpower here with this blog.

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