Writers struggle with imposter syndrome. Constantly feeling like a fraud comes with the job, as people tend to associate the profession of writer—and the right to refer to oneself as a writer—with having published books. Writers think they need that formal, public validation of their writing in order to be called writers. Yet even once they have that, writers often only feel like writers when they are working on their next project.

Practically speaking, it is often said that one has to be writing to be a writer. Not writing—for whatever reason one might not be writing—disqualifies you.

The truth is, none of that is true.

In his 2005 memoir The Tender Bar, JR Moehringer’s own journey to become a successful writer—and to identify as a writer—is the crux of his coming-of-age story. Even in publishing articles in The New York Times, JR’s challenges make him doubt himself. William Monahan’s screenplay for the 2021 film adaptation of the book revolves around this concept, ending on the image of JR driving off to pursue his writing career. On the road in his Uncle Charlie’s convertible, the voiceover ties up the film in JR’s self-realization:

When you set out to be lawyer, you go to law school, you get a diploma for your effort, you pass the bar. In the text it declares you officially a lawyer. That's how most jobs work. But you’re a writer the minute you say you are. Nobody gives you a diploma. You have to prove it—at least to yourself.

To all the writers, this is the truth: Say you are, and make it so. To be a writer, you only need to believe it.