Are you a writer?
How would you know?
Writers tend to write, right?
But how often, who for and how well?
This line of questioning is ambiguously annoying for a reason; there are no hard and fast metrics which dictate what a writer is or isn’t.
If you write anything at all, you have a case to state.
Whether or not you’re a writer depends entirely on whether or not you think you’re a writer.
The same goes for dancers, photographers, fighters, models, philosophers and nearly everything in between.
You become a writer (and cease being an ‘aspiring-writer’) the second you decide to mold your definition of what a writer is to include yourself.
I believe you should do this with everything you’re passionate about.
The ‘aspiring’ part of ‘aspiring writer’ is a safety net. It shields your work from scrutiny and justify mistakes.
Unfortunately, the shield perpetuates itself.
There’s not much use in considering yourself an ‘aspiring’ anything. Making mistakes and processing critique are both essential to growth.
‘Aspiring’ implies that the goal is to get good enough to shed the preface. It implies a destination which is an absolutely arbitrary definition.
It’s better to be a bad writer than an aspiring one.
Nobody is going to respect your work or hold it to a professional standard until you do so yourself.
Being bad at stuff is great. The worse you are, the more you have to learn.
Those who identify as ‘aspiring’ tend to be the most fearful of failure.
Become petrified enough of failing, and you might just scare yourself out of ever getting the practice you need to reach your destination.
Stop aspiring, start doing.
Find what you love.
Do the work.
Embrace the failure.