The Day I Realized I Was a Real Creator
The Day I Realized I Was a Real Creator:(Spoiler: It Wasn’t After I Published)
A heartfelt reflection on how I stopped waiting for permission and started owning my creative title.
I had already published a few books.
Covers were uploaded, pages were proofed, sales trickled in. By all technical definitions, I was a published author.
But I didn’t feel like one.
I was still waiting for something — a viral moment, a 5-star review from a stranger, or maybe just someone official-looking to pop out of the bushes and declare, “Yes, Karen, it’s official. You are now a Real Creator.”
Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen.
What did happen was this…
I Thought “Creator” Meant Something Else
For the longest time, I had this image in my head: real creators had studio lighting, editorial calendars, and coordinated outfits when they filmed their writing process (and they probably didn’t write with a half-eaten granola bar stuck to their elbow).
They had large audiences. Big followings. Clean desktops.
And then there was me — squeezing writing into 20-minute chunks between caregiving, laundry, and tracking Jimmy’s IEP goals.
So no, I didn’t feel like I belonged in the “creator” club.
Until one Tuesday afternoon.
My Real Moment of Truth
I was working on one of my books. Honestly, I don’t even remember which one — it was a rough day, the kind where the coffee’s cold before you remember where you left it.
My daughter walked in, glanced at my screen, and said, “Wait… you made that?”
And for some reason, it hit me like a freight train full of sticky notes and Amazon print specs.
Yes. I made that.
I made this.
I created something — from my head and my heart and my lived experience — and I put it out into the world. That was the moment it clicked.
Not when the book was live.
Not when someone else validated it.
But when I looked at it and said, “This came from me.”
So What Does It Mean to Be a “Real” Creator?
It means showing up anyway.
It means writing when you’re exhausted, formatting when you’d rather nap, hitting publish even when you’re still second-guessing everything.
It means doing it scared. Doing it scrappy. Doing it messy.
Real creators aren’t always trending. They’re not always polished. But they’re doing the thing.
You Are One, Too.
If you’ve ever made something — a book, a story, a journal page, a Canva graphic you’re weirdly proud of — you’re a real creator.
Not someday.
Not when it’s perfect.
Not when you’ve “earned it.”
Right now. Even with sticky fingers, a cluttered mind, and an unfinished to-do list.
You’re doing the thing.
And that? Is more than enough.
💬 Tell Me in the Comments:
Have you had your “I’m a real creator” moment? What did it look like for you?
(And if you’re still waiting for it — I’m here to tell you, you already are.)
