From ‘writer’ to ‘author’

I’m writing from two years into this “author” gig.

I just had to Google “the difference between an author and a writer.” And in case you’re wondering, the difference is money.

Now, I’m not rolling in the dough down here in my basement, but I’m doing fine. No complaints. It’s just that an “author” is one who gets paid to write, while a “writer” is someone who, well, writes.

I made that jump two years ago, right around this same day in March (there’s still some discrepancy over “Don’t Know Tough’s” actual release date involving a national glue shortage around the time of publication, but that’s another story).

A lot has changed since then. This column, for example, is still relatively new. I published the first “Where I’m Writing From” back in the summer of 2022, just a few months after my debut novel was reviewed by The New York Times.

I mention the Times here not to brag, but to highlight how subjective this whole thing is. How fragile. If that review hadn’t landed, you might not be reading this. I might still be teaching high school English, afraid to tell people I was a writer, er, I mean, an “author.”

I struggled with that for a long time. Even after my second novel hit shelves in 2023, I still thought of myself as a teacher first and a writer second, regardless of Google’s definition.

That changed when I became the “Writer In Residence” at Arkansas Tech University. Something about that job, the faculty, my students — being back in a classroom that felt wonderfully similar to where my whole writing journey began — changed how I viewed myself.

These days, I no longer have to separate my work life from my books, or vice versa. I get to teach students what I’ve learned. I get to learn from them. I get to host “Slab Times” and do my best Johnny Wink impersonation a few times a week.

In other words, I’m lucky. You see, all art is subjective. Great books still get overlooked and become farts in the whirlwind that is the monstrous American publishing machine.

This realization forced me into some much-needed introspection recently. It caused me to take a step back and refocus on the lines, the words, the art involved in putting the black on the white. After all, the work is what matters in the end.

Even knowing this, I still struggle when it comes to job descrip

tions. Am I an author? A novelist? A columnist or a sham?

Charles Portis, a hero of mine whom I wrote about last week, was known to refer to himself as a “freelance writer.”

When I first saw this, I thought it was a joke. Portis is a legend, I snarled. A great American novelist!

After giving it some thought, I still think it’s funny, but — just like Portis’ books, essays and articles — it’s also true. A “freelance writer” sounds good to me.

Eli Cranor is the nationally bestselling, Edgar Award-winning author of “Don’t Know Tough” and “Ozark Dogs.”He can be reached using the“Contact”page at elicranor.com.