Unexpected Identity Crisis: How Becoming an Author Transformed my Sense of Self

I’m an author.

Having published multiple books, both fiction and non-fiction, this is factually true. But I'm still learning to embrace this new identity alongside my many established ones.

I didn't start thinking analytically about my identity until creating fictional characters made me consider how life choices affect personality and identity. For each novel in the Maddie and Nate series, I’ve had to consider the characters’ identities at different stages of their lives. The process of building fictional identities has unexpectedly illuminated the way my own life choices have shaped my sense of self.

If you don’t know me well, you might not realize how crowded it is in the identity part of my brain. My life journey, from childhood to adulthood, through various relationships and careers, has shaped my identity over time. My professional identity is characterized by my work as a scientist, consultant, executive, and creative professional.

All these parts of me have mostly gotten along over the years, each one knowing when to step forward and when to hang back. But lately, I've been wrestling with something different - this whole "becoming an author" thing. It's not like picking up a new hobby or adding another line to my resume. It's not just another piece of who I am. This new identity is changing how I see myself and reshaping how all these unique pieces of me fit together.

Unlike my previous roles that had clear boundaries and expectations, being an author seems to demand everything at once. It's as if this new identity is a hungry creature, steadily consuming all my previous selves rather than politely taking its place alongside them. When I was an executive, I knew exactly who I was in any given meeting. The scientist in me researched and analyzed the data. As a consultant, I could define success through deliverables and client satisfaction. But being an author? Who and what am I now?

Sometimes I catch myself hesitating when someone asks "What do you do?" The answer used to be so straightforward. Now I find myself stumbling, wondering if I should list my previous credentials like some sort of professional insurance policy before admitting, "I'm an author." As if those other identities might legitimize this new one that still feels like trying on someone else's clothes.

The integration of these facets of my identity into my author self has been happening unconsciously as I’ve been writing my books. My scientific methodology powers my research. My executive experience colors how I handle the business side of publishing. My consultant's eye for human behavior enriches my dialogue. But instead of wearing these identities like separate hats I can switch between, they're melting together into something new and occasionally unsettling.

Yet there's something liberating about this uncomfortable integration. Being an author doesn't just add another layer to my identity - it creates a new alloy from all these elements of who I've been. Perhaps that's why it feels so destabilizing. It's not just about learning a new role; it's about allowing all these parts of myself to be reconstituted into something entirely different.

I am an author.