I am not a writer by trade. I don’t wake up early to hit a word count. I don’t outline novels in coffee shops. And I don’t own a dedicated writing desk with a mood board pinned above it. And yet, I write. I write book reviews, reflections, and the occasional short article. Sometimes the words come while I’m folding laundry. Other times, they arrive in the quiet just before bed. I’ve come to realize that being a writer doesn’t always require a daily practice or a professional title. There is value in writing occasionally, and embracing that rhythm has freed me in ways a rigid routine never could.

I’ve always been an educator. But two years ago, I decided to return to school and get a graduate degree, so I scaled back my hours and took a job as a kindergarten paraprofessional with the goal of becoming an adjunct professor in mind. As I neared the end of my degree this year, I thought I’d follow through on my original plan: to teach at the college level as an adjunct professor. But something shifted. I realized how much I genuinely enjoy my work in the kindergarten classroom. I love the connection with students, the rhythm of the school day, and the small but meaningful victories. And so, I made a different decision: to stay. That choice brought another question: how could I make up some of the income I had expected to earn as an adjunct? About two months ago, a co-worker casually mentioned that she writes book reviews. She told me she doesn’t get paid much but gets to keep the books. That simple comment stuck with me. I thought, "I could do that, too." And so I did (and continue to do), and to my surprise, I found that I really enjoy it, too.

When I embarked on this review journey, I believed that not writing regularly disqualified me from calling myself a writer. I hesitated to claim the word. It felt like a title reserved for novelists, journalists, and bloggers with editorial calendars. But the more I wrote reviews or jotted down thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone, the more I understood: the act of writing is what makes you a writer, not the frequency. Has anyone else recently had this epiphany? There’s something uniquely powerful about occasional writing. It allows ideas to simmer. It gives life the time to reveal what’s worth saying, which comes naturally to me anyway, given my introverted personality. When I write a book review, I’m not just evaluating a story but responding to a personal experience. That response is often shaped by the mood I was in while reading, what was going on in my life then, or what the characters reminded me of. Writing without a rigid schedule gives me space to process and respond with honesty. It’s less about production and more about reflection.

One unexpected benefit of being an occasional writer is the lack of pressure. I can experiment since I’m not relying on writing for income or validation. I can write from the heart without worrying about trends or metrics. I can abandon a piece halfway through if it doesn’t feel right. I can write slowly. And in that slowness, I often find clarity. Being an occasional writer doesn’t mean I take my writing lightly. On the contrary, I treat it with deep respect. The moments I do write are intentional. When I draft an article, I think carefully about its purpose. This kind of writing might not be prolific, but it is personal and purposeful. It’s a reminder that writing is not only about quantity, it’s also about connection. As an educator with over two decades of experience, I bring that lens into many of my reviews. I can recognize when a story truly supports developmental growth, emotional understanding, or literacy engagement. That educator's perspective adds another layer of meaning (and joy!) to the process. It turns each review into more than just a critique; it becomes an opportunity to celebrate what stories can do for children.

So, to anyone who writes in scattered pockets of time, who jots down thoughts between work shifts or after the kids go to bed, who doesn’t follow a writing schedule or attend workshops, know you are still a writer. Your voice matters even if it only appears on the page now and then. Occasional writing is still writing. And it’s often the kind that rings the truest. I don’t have a word count goal today. I didn’t plan this essay in a notebook last week. The idea came to me a couple of days ago, and I felt like I had something worth saying, so yesterday, I sat down to say it. Maybe that’s all writing really is. It is not a job description or a lifestyle, but a moment of courage and connection whenever it decides to show up.