Writer for Life?

I’ve been pondering this question for a while: Once you publish a book, are you “the writer” for life?

The question came to mind earlier this summer when the painter arrived at our house. He came last year, too, at which time he learned from my husband that I wrote mystery novels. This fact paid off last year, when the paint job cost more than estimated and a signed book was requested in lieu of additional payment. Gotta love that. So this year when the painter arrived, he said, “You’re the writer, right?”

I nodded. Yep, that’s me. Never mind that I am not currently working on a manuscript. Never mind that my last three manuscripts didn’t find publishers. Never mind that I’ve recently channeled my writing skills towards obtaining a steady weekly paycheck to help fund my children’s college tuition and my own retirement needs.

So tell me, is writing like parenting—a lifetime commitment of varying magnitude? Even if you haven’t “birthed” anything lately and all your “offspring” are out of the nest, is it still appropriate to identify yourself as a writer? Once you publish a book, are you “the writer” for life?

[This is my last post on InkSpot. It’s been fun, but now I’m done:)]