I define me

NOBODY ELSE

The other day, I went to a networking event on a scenic rooftop in downtown Toronto. I went by myself (as I tend to do) and when I spotted someone I knew chatting among a small group, I approached him to say hi.

When this person introduced me to thE group, he said, “This is my friend Kern. He’s a famous author.”

I kind of rolled my eyes and said something like, “I don’t know about the famous part,” and was ready to brush the comment aside. But my friend put his hand on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eye.

“You are a famous author,” he said. “Own it.”

My mind runs through a million thoughts per minute so when he told me that, I instantly reflected back to when I graduated university.

Actually, let me flash back to high school so this story makes sense. I was one of the best basketball players in all of Canada. This happened at a time when basketball was taking off across the country and so my popularity was similar to someone going viral today.

Then my girlfriend and I had a baby my last year of high school. I dropped out for a bit then found a way to graduate before accepting the only scholarship offer I had left. I ended up getting injured after my second year so I didn’t live out my goals of playing pro. But two years later, I graduated from Saint Bonaventure University with an English degree.

Okay, back to the networking party. There’s a reason I gave you that backstory about being a basketball player. When I just graduated university and came back to Toronto, everyone would be like “Hey, you in the NBA yet?” or, “Here comes the baller. When am I going to see you on TV.”

Everyone, and I mean everyone, only saw me as a basketball player. It got to the point where I started avoiding people so I wouldn’t have to endure those conversations.

“No, I don’t play ball anymore.”

“No, I didn’t make it pro.”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t play ball anymore.”

According to everyone else, I was a basketball player. That was my identity. No one knew I had already started writing my first novel. No one recognized how painful it was to endure comments about basketball when I knew that wasn’t my future.

One of my goals during this time period was to change all of that. I promised myself that when someone sees me on the streets, they’ll call me a writer instead of a baller.

All of this was running through my mind when my friend looked me in the eye and told me to own it. Because I should own it. I should be proud to call myself an author because that’s how I choose to define myself.

Now when I walk into rooms, everyone knows me as the writer. That alone has been one of my proudest achievements. It reminds me that I am in control of who I am. That I can control the narrative of my story, nobody else.

I define me.

Even before any of my books were done, I made sure to think of myself as a writer. When I was cleaning buildings as a janitor, when I was washing cars, selling Bingo tickets, working at a discount shoe store — I was still a writer.

Because I define me.

When I hadn’t sold a single book but was writing every day, when I was making 200 calls a day as a bill collector, when I didn’t make a single dollar as a ghostwriter but was blogging — I was still a writer.

I chose not to wait around for anyone to hand me that title. I took it.

Because I define me.