Writers and Authors – It’s in the Walk

You hear the terms “writer” and “author,” but do you know the difference? Is there a difference?

Definitions

Writers are people who write. They write fiction, nonfiction, books, vignettes, emails, texts, letters, grocery lists—doesn’t matter. They may write for others, for themselves or for nobody—doesn’t matter.

Authors are people who’ve had writing published. Big press, small press, self-published—doesn’t matter. Their work gets read by others and is intended that way.

Relationship

You may infer from those definitions that all authors are writers, but not vice versa. For the most part, that’s correct.

As shown in the Venn diagram, you may be an author without being a writer. That’s the case if you hire a ghost writer. As the author, your name appears on the book cover, but you didn’t write it.

No Certificate

No sanctioning body bestows the titles of writer or author. No authority bestows diplomas, sew-on patches, or military-style chest ribbons. You’re a writer if you say you are. You’re an author if you can point to a published work bearing your name.

Attitude

Definitions and certifications aside, a notable factor separates authors from writers, and I don’t see this discussed much. Attitude. Here, I’m contrasting authors with those writers who aspire to become published authors.

Not all writers seek publication, and that’s fine. Better for them, in some ways. No publisher will reject their manuscript. No critic will pan their book.

Many writers do pursue publication, though, and until they achieve it, you can tell a writer from an author by attitude alone.

Images from Pixabay.com

Writer Attitude

For writers, the path to publication seems daunting. They tread with care and hesitation through new territory, toward that glorious land of publication located beyond their zone of comfort. Though hopeful as they pursue a dream they glimpsed, they’re also fearful and they walk with tentative steps through a realm of mystery.

Author Attitude

Authors, even those with a single published short story, stride with a confident swagger, their chin up and their eyes glinting with determination. They’ve been down the trail before and know every rock and root, each bush and branch. They walk with a calm assurance borne of past experience.

Evidence

How do I know? When I go to scifi conferences, I see writers who dream of publication and I see authors who’ve achieved it. I witness a marked difference in gait, in bearing. Writers gaze at authors with awe, and authors carry themselves with poise and graceful ease, as if they own the world.

I saw this in my own journey. However, my authorial stride retains some writerly unease, and hasn’t reached full-fledged complacency yet. But there’s something about the assurance I felt from past accomplishment, knowing I could do it again.

You, Too

Take heart, writer. You’ll get there. One day you’ll walk (in the words of Shakespeare) “bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.” You’ll strut around like—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Love the Books, Not Their Author?

Have you ever enjoyed an author’s books, then found out something disturbing about that author? Did the revelation spoil your appreciation of the books?

I suspect we’ve all been let down by a hero. Perhaps a favorite actor, athlete, politician, or artist did something unsavory, and that detracted from your experience of their work. It stains their reputation, at least for you. You’re no longer able to separate performer from performance.

The works of Jules Verne, my favorite author, come across today as antisemitic, racist, and sexist. His anti-Jewish sentiment is evident in both Hector Servadac (also published as Off on a Comet) and The Carpathian Castle where he depicts Jewish characters in a bad light. He includes characters of color in many novels, but never as the hero and often in stereotyped ways—servants or cooks—subordinate to the white hero. At least he includes them, unlike those of the female gender, who rarely appear at all in his works.

I could excuse these ‘isms’ and rationalize my continued reading of his works, by observing that this 19th Century French author reflected the prevailing biases, prejudices, and privileges of his time. I could say it’s unfair to impose my modern standards on a man no longer around to defend himself.

But I believe that lets both of us—me and Verne—off the hook too easily.

Consider that reading represents a form of communication, and that it involves a sender (the writer) and a receiver (the reader—you). Your appreciation of the written work occurs at that interface where you interact with the text.

Therefore, you bear a share of responsibility here and you can’t shrug it off. Your love for or hatred of the book is an individual reaction you own, an experience you share only with the writer, whether that person is alive or dead.

All written material to which we have access was written by humans. All humans suffer from faults, frailties, and weaknesses of some kind. You lack the option of reading books written by angels. Sorry about that.

Knowing this, you face a choice. You might refuse to discover anything about the author. That spares you from any knowledge of skeletons lurking in their closets. But it sets you up for profound disappointment if you ever find out your favorite author slipped off the mental pedestal you erected and fell short of your moral standards in some way.

On the other hand, you can read with full understanding that you consume text produced by a flawed author—a human. You can research the author and discover some distasteful truths, and read the work anyway.

Here’s where I stand with Verne. I can’t claim ignorance of his backwards attitudes. If I choose to enjoy his novels, I must decide that the good outweighs the bad. Further, I must recognize this as an individual choice. Other readers make their own choices.

I like to read Verne’s novels, most of them. I don’t excuse his faults, don’t condone his biases. I wince at his stereotypes and cringe at the prejudiced opinions. I don’t idolize him. I’ve decided, for me, his strengths outweigh his weaknesses.

You face similar decisions whenever you read anything. Does the good exceed the bad? Do the delights of the book surpass the poor behavior or faulty value system of the writer?

When you read a work, only you can weigh good against bad. Nobody else can do it for you, not reviewers, critics, or even—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 3, 2023Permalink