If I were an inventor, I’d probably have a notebook filled with all kinds of crazy ideas. If I were a detective, my desk would be covered in paperwork. And if I were a comedian, I’d have pages filled with really lame jokes. If I were any of these things, I would spend a significant amount of time writing. But I would never call myself a writer.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t enjoy being a writer. It’s just that writing—the act of transferring fun thoughts onto paper—is not my favorite part of the experience. It’s odd that writers would give such a bland, non-descript definition of their hobby or profession. I’d think that a group of people dedicated to manipulating the English language could come up with a more sparkling title than “writer.” But no such luck. At least not in this year’s thesaurus.

As a creative writing instructor, I’ve occasionally had the opportunity to work with groups of enthusiastic writers who can’t wait to get started. More often, though, I find myself working with students who would much rather be taking a math test, cleaning out their desk, or being paddled in the principals office. Why do kids think writing is such a chore? Well, maybe it is a chore. But for my own sanity, I’m blaming it on that word: “writer.”

It has to be that word. It has to it has to it has to. When I teach “daydream construction,” or when I give a “liar’s workshop,” or when I present “imaginary history,” it's not uncommon for the kids to choose to skip recess and work on their stories. That doesn’t happen when I teach a “writer’s workshop.” Imagining? Wahoo! Writing? Ugh. Way too much work. I’ve come to believe that if I’m not having fun, I’m doing something wrong. When I write a story, I can usually tell how good it is by how much fun I had writing it. Capturing daydreams—to me, that’s what writing really is. Interestingly enough, I’ve never met a reluctant daydreamer.

Kids are smart. They know the difference between work and play. The more a subject looks like work, the less likely anyone will be paying attention. Besides, we learn way more by playing anyway. In art, quantity produces quality. The way to get quality is by making it fun enough so that they’ll want to do it again.

In 1949, the United States changed the name of the Department of War to the Department of Defense. Somewhere in the past 20 years, Kellogg’s “Sugar Smacks” magically became “Honey Smacks.” KFC even has an ad campaign running right now that says that KFC stands for “Kitchen Fresh Chicken. ” Hmmm…and all this time I thought it stood for Kentucky Fried. Anyway, the point is, there’s hope. If they can change their names, then we can, too. Maybe someday, instead of calling myself a writer, I’ll say I’m a construction worker in the land of make-believe, or a PR representative for some high profile imaginary clients.

© 2004 Derek Munson, Awestruck Creative Enterprises, LLC. All rights Reserved.
Article available for reprint with permission and attribution.