The next time someone tells me, “Oh, I write too”, in response to my “I am a journalist” introduction, I am going to scream like a BANSHEE!
9 out of 10 people tell me they write or love to.
“I write letters to the editor of my local newspaper, every week. Two have even been published.” — Yes, you are ripe for the Pulitzer now.
“I used to write for my school/college magazine.” — Wow! Ramon Magsaysay award probably?
“I used to keep a diary. When I was 12 years old. For a whole month.” — Right, Let’s look for a publisher. The next Anne Frank, are you?
Don’t get me wrong. I think writing is a great relief, and everyone should write at least few lines every now and then. It is refreshing and puts things in perspective. Take blogging, for instance. A fantastic medium, and such amazing talent.
What I have a problem with is when I tell people I am a journalist and I write for a living, they think it is the same as their “Why I love my parents” essay in 2nd grade.
The pomposity of these people gets to me.
Just because I manage to operate the myriad electronic appliances at home or change the light bulb, does it make me an engineer?
Just because I know how to do a neat dressing for a wound, or prescribe myself and family paracetamol for fever, am I a doctor?
Just because I do my household accounts, does it make me a Chartered Accountant?
Just because I sing in the bathroom, am I Shreya Ghosal?
Just because I shake and sway crazily when music of any sort is played, am I Michael Jackson?
Remember, the Pen is mightier than the Sword.
And next time someone uses the ‘I am a writer line…” I will poke him/her in the eye with my mighty pen.