I am not a writer.
It kills me to think that, even moreso to type it. But the truth is unavoidable. You have to have the skill before practicing to make it in the bloody, competitive, tooth and claw writing world. You need to be some sort of prodigy before you even try. You already are at a disadvantage if you need to practice to get good. You're already behind. In the creative community, every disadvantage is killer. There are however many more gladiators, if you will, above you in the chain with that many fewer opponents to cut through than you do. It's deadly, entering the world of creatives. Just putting your foot in, a story story written on the side, is dangerous. Trying to make a career out of it? That's like leaping right into the lion's den--no, right into the mouth of the lion.
And sure, a an average writer from the start I am, I think, probably ahead of some people. But how many others are above average, or even above that? Already ahead of me with the skills and determination to get better. I tell myself I'll get better; I tell myself I'll put in more effort; I tell myself I'll take writing more seriously. But it never lasts. How could it with so many other things? Things that take me away from it while I think, "why?" Because I'm not a writer, that's why.
It begs the question, then, what am I? That, my friends, is what I intend to find out.