musketeer C

For those of you who don't know, I've been 1/3 of a group for some time now: the Writing Musketeers. There was Musketeer A, Musketeer B and yours truly. Although we are all presently on this path toward literary "success" (as defined by our own individual standards), fate brought us together at some point and for the past several years, we've been traveling on this writer's road together.
Musketeer A was an incredibly talented writer. I could read one hundred books on creating the perfect character; her characters just sprang forth fully matured like Tribbles. Entire novel-sized manuscripts were full of not only real, rounded characters, but believable situations. We even attended a writer's conference together. I was enrapt at how this girl could work a room. While she was steadily impressing authors and agents alike, I was busy entertaining conventioners with my impression of woman completely unable to talk to strangers. To this day, I believe Musketeer A will land the agent and the "big break" before either me or Musketeer B. Why? Because she has equal parts talent and drive.
Which brings me to Musketeer B. Ah, my Musketeer B! Ever fond of calling herself a writer, but rarely wrote. In fact, the last time she wrote an original piece, the words Bobby Brown and crack pipe weren't even synonymous yet. However, she had a gift for self-promotion. She was able to walk into a room and every man, woman and houseplant prostrated in her wake. She would attend massive nationwide conferences and have the most jaded of agents eating out of her hand. The problem was, when the smoke cleared and said agent requested that all-important manuscript, it simply didn't exist.
Then there's me. Not quite as talented as A, certainly not as balls-out as B, but I have determination. But even with all that determination, I think that, after making that first sale, I'll be looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to expose me for the talent-deficient hack that I sometimes believe myself to be.
On another note, I spent a lot of time brainstorming "Potty Mouth" today and reading more one-act plays. I'm fully convinced that the right time and theatre are just around the bend for my play(s). Which brings me to my next question.
Am I a screenwriter or a playwright? To tell the truth, I'm comfortable in both conventions. Am I being unnecessarily prideful? Or am I a multi-hypenate literary juggernaut poised to take over the world?
I'll figure it out in the morning.