You Might Be A Writer If…

You love to go to the mall, not to shop, but to watch people.
You love to hang out in bookstores and wish you could buy every book there.
You love to go to coffee places, not necessarily for the coffee—although you’ll enjoy some of that, too— but because other writers tend to hang there, and even though you don’t know any of them, you gain inspiration from their proximity.
You love to take walks by yourself so you can rehearse scenes out loud. (You also get very good at talking without moving your lips so no one can tell you’re talking to yourself!)
You keep a notebook so you can write down favorite phrases or sentences from a great writer. “It was the best of times; it was the worse of times.”
Anything around you could become a potential novel. Including your chair.
You lose track of time when you’re working at your computer on a scene in your WIP.
You do weird and potentially incriminating searches on your computer for strange viruses, untraceable poisons, exotic places, foreign languages, interesting names, personality disorders, how to elude a stalker, etc.
The sound of rain, the scent of the sea, the touch of a leather-bound book, and the mist tumbling down over the hills all make your imagination kick into high gear.
You wish fervently that you could interview the couple at the next table in the restaurant.
You’d rather write than do just about anything else.
Rejection stings, and you want to give up. But you can’t. You just can’t.