For years, I wasn’t brave enough to admit I was a writer.

I went to college to study the craft. Five years later, I returned to school for my MFA. I gave readings and attended writers’ conferences and residencies. I wrote. For all intents and purposes, I was a writer. But when chatting at parties, when introduced to friends of friends, when asked that inescapable, horrible question, So, what do you do? I would say, “Oh, I work in [insert day job here]. I also write.” Writing was a tacked-on t...