Christ's followers are to view themselves as "strangers and aliens," as stated by both the apostle Peter and the writer of the book of Hebrews. While we often struggle obeying biblical commands, Christian writers experience no difficulty with the above concept or practice. In fact, our family and friends claim we are among the most unique of God's creations. At least, that's the polite translation. Having observed us for years, their therapy groups united in compiling the Jeff Foxworthyish research below to help fledgling writers and their worried relatives identify this syndrome--er, Christian calling--and respond appropriately.
You might be a writer if:
In doing high school term papers, you emitted the politically correct moans and groans, but secretly enjoyed writing them.
You don't file your nails with an emery board; you wear them down on a computer keyboard.
You cannot write a grocery list without analyzing its transformational arc.
You volunteer to write missionaries or Aunt Maudie May Simmons not to gain eternal brownie points, but because you love writing letters.
You believe clean laundry is highly overrated and that ironing should be declared illegal.
You know every street, building and park bench in your fictional setting, but get lost trying to find your hometown DMV.
You are refused entrance to movie theaters because they recognize you as the criminal who tells customers how much better the book is.
You inform your tax accountant you want to claim your anniversary weekend getaway as "romantic research."
At the breakfast table, your spouse asks how your protagonist is feeling today.
Your kids have memorized your cozy mystery file of undetectable poisons.
You purchase a second residence to house all your books.
You like to eavesdrop on cell phone conversations.
You break out in hives if your allergic character eats shellfish.
She receives Valentine chocolates and you gain the weight.
You are arrested for vandalism because you corrected apostrophe use on signs with a spray paint can.
You and your family ate Cheerios and Cheetos for supper every night this past week.
The announcement that you are "on deadline" causes those who share your life to don body armor.
You haven't changed your car's oil since the Carter administration.
You're so used to writing for free that when you actually receive a royalty check in the mail, you return it as a mistake.
Repairmen refuse to come to your house. (Your plumber didn't appreciate your explosives research for your WWII historical, and he spread the word.)
You stalk strangers in Wal-Mart in order to take notes on their gaits and gestures.
Even your villains get more sleep than you do.
When you kill off a character, you call in an obituary to the newspaper. And [*sob*] send flowers.
Librarians catch you sniffing their books.
You make bomb threat calls to Starbucks so you can have the place to yourself to write.
There they are: an extensive but not exhaustive list of strange and alien indications of a true writer. Perhaps you, my readers/writers, and your families can suggest others?