I never wanted to be a writer. It's important to know this about yourself. Some people, after all, do want to be a writer. It's a charming way of life.
Culturally, "writer" is the paradigm case of the artist: popular and intellectual, free and wise. A writer is meant to be in touch with the currents of human lives; a writer's knowledge of people is broad and he understands many individual quirks and dreams: he is a humanist and a gentleman. He is witty and clever. Stories are said to be the fabric of our cultural heritage, the stuff, literally, that dreams are made of.
Everyone would like to be a writer: everyone wants to ennoble his personal history with the glaze of a printed narrative, an archived tome. Each of us wants to quit his job and go—to ply the trade of words, to work the material of memories and characters into a strong image, a general yet specific portrait of the human condition—something that changes, and strengthens, the lives of adoring readers.
Meanwhile, the alarm rings, children go wild, systems fail, the bread burns in the oven, minds go soft. In fact, for many of us, it may be the noblest thing to say, "I don't want to be a writer."