Okay, you know how Muggles don’t get what it’s like being a wizard? And how crazy people don’t know what it’s like being sane and sane people don’t know what it’s like being crazy?
Those who are not writers do not know what it’s like to be a writer. Ask someone who is not infected with the Authorial Virus (Types A through G) what a writer does and you’ll probably get a blank stare. Then that person will noodle it and shrug and say, “He sits up there in his room with his My Little Ponies, pooping fairy tales out of his fingertips for ten minutes. Then he masturbates and talks to people on Twitter.”
Masturbate? Well, fine. Everybody’s got a lunch hour, and it doesn’t take me 60 minutes to eat a damn sandwich. Nothing wrong with exploring my own body with various textures and food products. As for Twitter? Hey, you go and mill around the water cooler like a bunch of thirsty water bison, and I go and mill around Twitter like a digital version of the same.
But I do not defecate fairy tales out of my fingertips. If only the act of writing was quite so simple as all that.
(And, by the way, leave my ponies out of it. They didn’t do anything to you.)
Point being, it’s time to take this big callused toe of mine and drag it across the sand. There, then, is the line. On this side is me, the penmonkey. On that side is you, the… I dunno. Pen-muggle. Shut up.
What I’m trying to say is, this is what it means to be a writer. Got people in your life who just don’t grok the trials and tribulations of the everyday word-chucker? Show them this.
I Swear On The Life Of Word Jesus, It’s Actually Work
This one sucks because you know what? I get it. I’ve tried explaining to people what I do, and at no point does it sound like work. “Uhh, well, I wake up at 6AM and I get my coffee and then I get in front of the computer and I… make stuff up… and then I try to convince people to buy the things I just… made up.” It sounds like the world’s biggest scam and explains why so many people want to be writers.
I might as well have said, “I sit out in a sunlit meadow and play Candyland with a bunch of puppies.”
Let’s just clear this one up right now:
Writing is work. It’s not back-breaking labor, no — though, by now I probably do have scoliosis (and a Deep-Vein Thrombosis whose clot-bullet will probably detonate in my brain) — but it is mind-breaking just the same. I can sit here for hours metaphorically head-butting the computer monitor until this story — or article, or blog-post, or sex-toy instruction manual — bleeds out across the screen. And then I have to keep fucking with it, keep hacking it apart and juicing my skull-meats until it all makes sense. Everything else is emails and spreadsheets and outlines and porn and shame and homelessness.
Am I doing work on par with fire fighters or soldiers? Fuuuuu-huuuu-huuuck no. But neither are you, Mister Cubicle Monkey. Or you, Target clerk. So. You know. Hush up.
All I’m saying is, no, I don’t need a “real job” because I already have one.
I Promise You, We’re Actually Accomplishing Something
Someone might ask, “Oh, what do you write?”
So, you tell them.
“Can I read it somewhere?”
You tell them, no, you can’t. It hasn’t sold yet. Or it’s in production. Or it’s headed toward publication. Or you have an agent but no publication. Or it’ll post to the web in three months. Or it’ll hit shelves in a year.
Or, or, or.
And then you get that look. The nod. The polite smile.
What they’re saying is:
“You go up into your room, you hide yourself away for hours every day, hunkering down over your computer until your spine crackles and your fingers buckle from carpal tunnel, and you stare at that screen and write word after word after word, and you have… nothing to show for it? Nothing at all?”
Well. Uhh. Sorta.
Just the same, it makes us want to kick you in the snack drawer.
The Two Reactions
I tell someone I’m a writer, I get one of the following two reactions. Ready? Here goes.
Number One: “Oh. A writer. Uh-huh. Well, that’s great.” They blink and offer a kind of dismissive or incredulous smile, as if I just told them I was a cowboy or a space marine. Occasionally there exists a follow-up question. “So, you write, like, what? Books?” And that word — books — is enunciated as if it’s a mythical creature, like they’re asking me if I spend all day tracking Bigfoot by his scat patterns. Another follow-up question is, “Like Stephen King?” (Or, insert some other famous writer — possibly the only writer this person has ever heard of.) Yes. Just like Stephen King. I write horror novels about Maine and sometimes stop to roll around in big piles of cash.
Subtext to this is: That’s precious. A writer! Adorable. So, what’s your real job, again? Some thick-headed dick-mops actually possess enough gall to ask that question. “Yeah, but what do you do for money?”
Number Two: “OH NO WAY A WRITER?” Their eyes light up. Their mouth slackens. They act like they’re encountering… I dunno, a celebrity, or someone who broke through the fence and now runs free with the other ponies. “It must be so great,” they might say, as if it’s really awesome not being sure where your money will come from next or how you’re going to pay for that appendectomy you’ve technically needed for the last four years.
That one has some follow-ups, too. First, again, “Oh, like Stephen King?”
Second is, “OMG I’M A WRITER TOO.” They almost never are. My neighbor hit me with that one when we lived at our last house. Regaling me of tales of her One Novel that she never actually finished because She Has To Wait For Just The Right Mood. “My kids always know when inspiration has struck because I have to pull over to the side of the road and get in the zone and just start writing.” Yeah, because that’s how it works. I pay my mortgage with one unfinished novel. Turns out, you can bank inspiration and collect interest. That’s how I’m going to pay for my appendectomy! With the sweet wampum of inspirado.
Do any other careers earn this reaction? “OMG I’M AN ACCOUNTANT TOO. I sit at home and budget out how much money I have for weed and Doritos. And when inspiration strikes, I balance my checkbook.”
“OMG I’M A CHEF TOO, I just microwaved a can of Beefaroni.”
“OMG I’M AN ASTRONAUT TOO I totally just climbed a tree and looked at the moon.”
Don’t get me wrong, I like the second reaction over the first, but both are dismissive and misinformed.
Know this, non-writers: no, we’re not special, but we’re also not big dough-brained children, either. Put us somewhere in the middle between “jobless trilobite” and “second coming of Stephen King.”
We Try Very Hard To Be Normal
When writers dwell in their element — usually meaning with other writers or other creative-types — you can sense it. The freak flag flies up the pole. The whiskey comes out. The inappropriate jokes fly.
We laugh. We cry. We commiserate.
But when we’re amongst the, ehhh, ahem, pen-muggles, sometimes it feels like walking on unsteady ground. Like we’re going to be found out. Like eventually they’re going to snap their fingers and say, “Ahh, right, right. You just sit around in your underwear and tell stories to yourself, don’t you? I get it now.” Because that’s the vibe you get from some people. From family, from acquaintances, from those nearby.
“A writer lives there,” they may say in hushed whisper.
I’ve had this with other neighbors. You meet them for the first time, they say, “Oh, I sell cars, what do you do?” And you tell them. And the inevitable question is, “Oh, what do you write?” And the answer is, well, uhh, I write about vampires and zombies and goblins and psychic girls and corn-punks and monkey sex and I have a blog where I curse a lot and I also write games and books and…
By that point, they’re probably pulling their children closer. Hugging them to their hip. Just in case I decide to go all vampire-zombie-goblin on them. Just in case I’m some kind of serial killer.
And I want to say I’m not, but it’d be a half-hearted denial. After all, in my mind and on the page I’m constantly thinking of ways to torment and eventually execute characters. Which leads to…
Weird Shit Goes Through Our Head In A Swiftly-Moving, Never-Stopping Stream
I am ever lost in the fog of my own imagination. I don’t mean to suggest that this is what it takes to be a writer — after all, that fog of imagination is about as tangible and real as a pegasus fart. Just the same, I remain lost there for six minutes out of every ten, the grinder constantly turning, the gear-teeth chewing my mind-meat into usable ground brain-beef.
I need you to know that, non-writer, so when you ask me a question — “Would you like fries with that? Do you want us to change your brake pads? Did you take out the trash? Did you realize that the house is presently on fire?” — it explains the unfocused gaze, the faint moving of the lips where no sound comes out, the chewing of the inner cheek. It’s not just me being an idiot. I’m merely thinking of how to properly execute an invasion of New York City from the Hollow Earth, or trying to imagine the best way for a character to escape an undying serial killer, or pondering what happens when true love turns to bitter rage on a distant Saturnian mining colony.
It’s why my response to your question is usually a mumbled, “Wuzza?”
This is why writers must try very hard to live strong external lives.
Otherwise, we’d turtle inward, living only the myriad lives inside our own heads.
Here, Then, Is Your Soapbox
Sound off, authorial types. Let’s say you’re talking to a non-writer. What do you want them to know about being you? About being a writer with all your crazy writer ways? Scream it so the cheap seats can hear.
* * *
Want another booze-soaked, profanity-laden shotgun blast of dubious writing advice?
Try: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY
$4.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF
And: 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING
$0.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF
Amanda says:
Loved this post.
This is how the conversation usually goes for me.
“Oh, you’re a writer, huh? What do you write?”
“Well… novels…”
“Cool, cool. Any that I would know of?”
External: “Heh, well, no i’m not published yet, I’m still in the editing process with this one”
The good intentioned shine goes out of the woman’s eyes. “No luck with the agents i take it?”
“Nope. Not yet… and as i said, still in the editing process so i havent tried in a couple years”
The “tsk tsk what a loser” look shines through. “Well, I had a cousin once who wanted to be a songwriter and she got her stuff critiqued by this guy in the business who told her that she wouldnt cut it because….” <goes on about whatever this cousin's problem is, point of which was "figure out what's wrong with your shit and fix it"
My eyes glaze over, trying not to shout yeah okay im kinda already doing that, thanks for the FYI.
Oh, and of course during this whole conversation she pronounces the word "Author" as "Arthur"
*eye twitch*
Needless to say I tend to keep that to myself.
August 10, 2011 — 12:29 AM
Amanda says:
hmm… seems a bit got left off of my post. *shrugs*
that was supposed to say Internal: not unless you raided my computer or my closet
August 10, 2011 — 12:31 AM
oldestgenxer says:
So you’re a writer, huh?
Uh….yeah.
Well write somethin’ for me, purty boy.
It’s not like tha–
Whassa mattah, Mr Intoollekshual? You got writer’s cramps or something? Write me sumthin purty. A sonnet. A novella. How’s about an essay on the Inuit Diaspora?
What the–?
Hell, give me a haiku, bitch. Give me a haiku else I’ll fill ya full of lead. Go on.
It’s easy to write
It makes me feel like a whore
So is your mother
So that’s why I generally don’t tell people.
August 10, 2011 — 12:43 AM
Natalie says:
I am a fiction editor. So I get “Oh, you check for spelling mistakes and stuff.”
NO! NO THAT IS NOT WHAT MY JOB INVOLVES. Well, ok, yes, I do check for spelling mistakes. And stuff. But that “stuff” encompasses so much more than your puny brain can handle, I’m just going to nod away.
Writers? Ha! You guys got the easy job. I have to take your mound of half-digested …
what? Oh. Yeah, of COURSE I love you guys! Writers rule! And rock! BTFO! Keep sending me your delightful manuscripts that need hardly any work at all, really, just the occasional comma in the wrong place; it will only take me a couple of hours to fix up, tops.
August 10, 2011 — 12:53 AM
josin says:
Pet peeve:
“You write books? Yeah, well, I figure I’ll do that one day when I get the time.”
Closely followed by:
“You sold a book? Ooh! How much did you get?”
I don’t know creepy stranger man, how much do you make a year at your job? Oh, you don’t like me asking how much you get paid? Well, neither do I. Oh, and I think I’ll pick up one of those bachelor of whosamawhatchit degrees in my spare time, too. Yeah. That’s the ticket.
August 10, 2011 — 12:55 AM
J.J. Lancer says:
>>”That’s precious. A writer! Adorable. So, what’s your real job, again?”
As a freelance writer and aspiring novelist in my early 20’s, I get this a lot. When I meet new people, I’m always judged as a lazy-ass kid who probably dropped out of college so he can sit at home on the computer all day doing nothing.
Telling people that you’re a “writer” is probably on the same tier as saying you’re a “professional gamer” or “basement troll.”
I make money by working hard and doing what I love. That’s good enough for me.
August 10, 2011 — 1:06 AM
Joe says:
Some members of my friends and family, bless their hearts, have a bad habit of seeing me on my computer while I’m writing and assuming that this, this is the perfect moment to show me a YouTube video, or ask me to look up something that Really Isn’t Important, or look up that one picture where the pony says something bizarre with a weird facial expression. Every time I end up asking them, “If I were at my office, sitting in my cubicle, would you be doing this?”
The answer is invariably no. Yet still it continues.
Dressing up in my slacks, shirt, and tie has helped a little bit, but I’m thinking I should hang a sign next to the dinner table (where I usually work – more room for the pretzel bag) or something. I’m open to suggestions!
/rant
August 10, 2011 — 1:08 AM
Marlan says:
I get a lot of polite nods.
On a stranger note, I couldn’t help but notice the parallels between telling people you are a writer and telling them you are a video game tester. (which I am)
Reactions include:
“Oh that doesn’t sound like work at all.” It is work. Especially when the game is My Little Pony or Stewart Little 2. It is very fucking much work.
“That sounds like my 6th grader’s dream job!” Thanks. I’m 39. Way to make me feel like the manchild I am.
As for the writing, I try really hard not to tell people. Most of the time they clearly don’t want to hear it. The small percentage say it’s “cool” and “I wish I could write a book” but don’t want to get into it any further.
I am lucky that I have a handful of close friends and a wife who all like to read and don’t seem to hate the stuff I write. Or at least they tell me they don’t hate it.
I need a drink.
August 10, 2011 — 1:09 AM
Tattoo Hunter says:
Boss: I would very much like to have your permission to translate this post (with full credit, of course) for my readers and students (Im a writer from Mexico City) May I do that?
August 10, 2011 — 1:11 AM
Lara says:
I, too, worry about developing killer blood clots from all the hours spent writing and editing. I obsess about my characters, story structure, dialogue — anything you’d tell us 25 Things about — like a goddamn crazy person. I’ve gotten my share of judge-pity when I tell people I was a creative writing major and loved every minute of it. But I have yet to finish anything I’ve started, so I’d probably annoy you just as much as your neighbor does. Really, really dying to get there, though. Right now, I guess I’m just a struggling, unfocused mudblood.
August 10, 2011 — 1:32 AM
Jay says:
I dunno, I’m a journalist by training and am some kind of multimedia content producer at my current job. So all my writing training is in the non-fiction journalistic mode – and I’m not currently doing it for a living – and the most I’ve done as far as fiction is fanfiction. Does that count as a writer?
Most of the the time, non-writers ask me if newspapers are dying, or lecture me on how how the liberal media conspiracy is destroying the country, or how that one time that one reporter misspelled their name.
August 10, 2011 — 1:45 AM
Michael LaRocca says:
I’d probably just say “Fuck off loser” because being a writer is absolutely the best thing to be, and those who don’t get it are only half alive. Fuckin pen-muggles.
August 10, 2011 — 3:03 AM
joe says:
I like it when they look away when you tell them that you are a writer as if you just exposed yourself and they are hoping that no one else is looking.
or like Oldestgenxer, they keep asking to write stuff for them like you were a stand up comedian who went around making everyone laugh just because it’s your job description. Hey, look at me. I’m the funny guy, I tell jokes.
For the past two weeks, I have felt what you said, Chuck, always far away gone. Having livid dreams. Just because I’m trying to find ways to screw up with my characters. Then someone comes asking: Wanna hang out? Of course I do! Thanks for breaking my concentration!!!
I do like normal people though, they help me sometimes figure something with my characters I wouldn’t have, if I kept staring at the screen.
August 10, 2011 — 4:19 AM
Patrick O'Duffy says:
One of the great things about Melbourne is that it’s a city of art and writing. You tell someone you’re a writer, or a painter, or a poet or multimedia installation creator and they don’t tell you to get a real job, they take you seriously.
The problem with that is that they sometimes take you too seriously, and that you can be lionised for your hard work and achievements despite, well, not really having any. My two ebooks seem to be enough to impress people, land me profiles in local press and get me onto panels at festivals, and at times I want to protest that they should be setting the bar higher.
Too much respect starts to feel hollow after a while. Just like cocaine loses its flavour once your septum falls out.
—
Patrick
August 10, 2011 — 5:57 AM
Merry Farmer says:
Yeeeeaaahhh, that’s pretty much it for us writer-folk. Love this post! Thanks.
August 10, 2011 — 6:08 AM
Adam Christopher says:
Man, what a great post. I’ve encountered everything that Chuck mentions, to varying degrees. A lot of those kind of responses I had heard about from other writers and really thought they were some kind of authorly urban legend. Then I started getting them myself. Surreal.
One thing I’ve found is that a lot of people do seem to take a real interest and have a genuine understanding of what it is like to be a writer… right up until the point I mention it is science fiction. I was once engaged in a great conversation about writing with someone at my old office job, which went for nearly an entire lunch hour. Then, towards the end, the science fiction bomb was finally dropped, and the other person gave a strange, nervous laugh and practically stood up and walked out right then. It really felt like they thought I’d been spinning bullshit for the last hour, because science fiction isn’t real writing.
It was quite an eye-opener!
August 10, 2011 — 6:12 AM
terribleminds says:
For double-fun, tell someone you write…
Games.
You get a bevy of great reactions there.
“Like Monopoly?”
Yes, I wrote the GET OUT OF JAIL FREE card.
“Oh, so, video games.”
I have written video games, yes, but did I say video games? Video games are, as it turns out, only a subset of ALL OTHER GAMES.
My favorite: “I didn’t know games *had* writers.”
Yeah, no, they just spontaneously manifest themselves. GRAND THEFT AUTO was procedurally generated using marmot DNA and an old Casio keyboard. It grew like a fungal bloom.
It’s always amazing what short shrift writing gets, because nearly everything ever needs some degree of writing to achieve completion.
— c.
August 10, 2011 — 6:46 AM
Tony Lee says:
Great piece. And I for one will be using the term ‘Pen Muggle’ a lot more.
My conversations usually go as follows.
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a writer.’
‘Oh, of what?’
‘Anything that pays, usually. Though mainly comics.’
‘Oh.’ pause. ‘So you draw comics?’
‘No. As I said, I WRITE comics. Words and art, two different things.’
‘Oh.’ pause. ‘So you write the words.’
‘No, I write the plot, the story, the characters, the descriptions of each panel. And yes, the dialogue, that you so sweetly call ‘the words.’
‘But you don’t draw it.’
‘No.’
‘Wow, I’d love to be able to draw. That’s so creative.’
Gah.
August 10, 2011 — 6:23 AM
Adam Short says:
I get a weird variant on the awe reaction, much like Patrick above. People, especially those close to me, seem disproportionately proud of my feeble chicken scratches, and keep inciting me to do this full time and “become rich and famous”. My wife has a whole list of things we’re going to do when I’m “rich and famous”.
I wrote a book of children’s poems and had it published. I like it (obviously) but it ain’t Shakespeare. I’ve also written a teeny-tiny story in an art book and an article on sigil magick. I can write worth something vaguely approaching a damn, and I’m good for a pithy quip on twitter occasionally, but Stephen King I ain’t. Frankly, the thought of all the attention makes my head go a bit swimmy.
One day I might get my shit together and actually make a living out of this, but for the love of god, stop with the expectation! It’s like expecting your kid, who knows how to get from one end of the pool to the other, as long as he’s got a float, to be the next Michael Phelps…
August 10, 2011 — 6:36 AM
Kiara says:
You’ve forgotten about the completely dismissive: “Oh, I have an idea for a novel, too – when I get around to writing it.” As if all it takes to write a bestseller is to squat down and take a massive dump on a stack of printer paper.
The first statement is quickly followed by, “And I have this awesome story idea! Maybe you could write it and we could share in the profits!” Which just proves that they have no freaking clue at all what it takes to actually write something because – Yeah! I’ll totally take your little maggot of an idea and do all the mind-bending struggle of giving birth to the whole concept and after that I’D TOTALLY BE WILLING TO SHARE THE PROFIT WITH YOU (given the, you know, 1% chance it actually got picked up by someone who’d pay for it).
Except, NO, I totally wouldn’t. Thanks for playing. Here’s your consolation prize of a punch in the throat!
August 10, 2011 — 6:50 AM
simon says:
Love it – great post!
August 10, 2011 — 6:58 AM
Amber J Gardner says:
What I’d LOVE but would never say….
To my non-writer unsupportive friends…which I actually dumped recently:
“You know, for me to actually get anywhere with this writing thing, I actually you know, need to WRITE. So, can you please stop asking me to go out and drink every night and stand around and do nothing when I could be writing, and please stop teasing me or calling me antisocial or a freak if I decline the invite. Thank you.
Oh, and you know that writing advice you keep giving me? About what I should or shouldn’t write about? Yeah. You know nothing about the writing business nor the current market. Just because you loved something doesn’t mean the whole world will. So how on earth do you know better about what I should write than me, who is actually keeping an eye on those things? Yeah, I don’t think so. Shut up.”
To my “writer” friends:
“You’re full of shit. You’re not a writer, you’re an accountant. You gave up. You don’t write only you’re inspired, only when you feel like it. It doesn’t work that way. Also, you won’t make a million dollars from one book alone. It NEVER works out that way. So stop acting like it’ll magically happen one day without any effort on your part at all.”
Actually, I like the reactions of strangers better than those that actually know me. They at least smile and are supportive. They ask what I write and they look impressed…I think. I could be making that up to protect my fragile ego…
August 10, 2011 — 7:03 AM
Mark Clapham says:
As a former public sector penpusher working on arcane corners of transport legislation, I actually find explaining being a writer a lot easier to explain than my previous jobs.
August 10, 2011 — 7:21 AM
Christopher Gronlund says:
It’s usually a friend who brings up that I write…followed by varying degrees of interest.
“What do you write?”
“I’m a technical writer. And I write other things on the side: magazine articles, Web content, and ebooks.”
“You make money doing that?”
Some people connect with the tech writing thing, and we talk about editing airplane manuals, writing procedures for a large financial firm, or the exciting world of corporate training. Others see the articles I’ve written as “real” writing, and everything else as boring. But most of the time, people talk about what they do.
Sometimes I bump into those who also “write.”
“I coulda been a writer. In elementary school I wrote a story about a spookhouse and the teacher said it was really good. I bet if I had written more, I coulda been the next Stephen King.” (Somebody really said that to me.)
“I’ve always wanted to write a book. I have an idea if you’re looking for your next book.” (Followed by weird dance of them talking about their great idea, but not really because it’s ‘such a great idea that I don’t want it stolen.’ They might talk about the small percentage of the cut they’ll give me when it becomes a big hit, and I excuse myself to go find something more potent than a beer.)
And then there’s always, “I’m working on a novel, too…” (And they proceed to tell me, in great detail, everything about the novel. Somewhere along the way it becomes clear that they haven’t really worked on the novel–they just talk about the book they’ll one day finish when they’re not so busy, have it all laid out, and are finally inspired.)
I suppose what really matters is my wife sees how hard I work back in my little study and appreciates that on most days we can have lunch together and run errands early in the afternoon before traffic gets bad. That makes it all worth it.
August 10, 2011 — 7:26 AM
Lindsay Mawson says:
This post could not have come at a better time.
Just yesterday I got the “That’s precious. A writer! Adorable. So, what’s your real job, again?” attitude from someone I had just met, that lives around the corner from me. Lovely. Like feeling patronized by someone working in a cubicle at a grocery store.
And even more pathetic is this: LAST NIGHT, MY ENTIRE NIGHT, I dreamed of my main character of Exposing Dallas and the sequel I’m writing and HOW I COULD KILL HIM OFF BUT NOT REALLY. I dreamed of a lot of car accidents in one small area of a corn field, cops, and my character was there the whole time waiting for me to kill him in some weird freak accident.
Yesterday, I spent almost an hour trying to get my 1800’s cell phone to send a text message of ‘notes’ in my head (things I may have forgot to put in the current novel, and things I thought might be good ideas) to my email. I think my husband thought I was on another planet at the time. He could only reach me by radio transmission.
And no one will EVER understand what it’s like to be a writer, no matter how many posts you write about it. My husband still doesn’t get it and he deals with it how much of the day???? Exactly. We’re our own breed. (One that people seem to want to be for some strange reason).
August 10, 2011 — 7:41 AM
Lynne Connolly says:
ooo a soap box! Well I write erotic romance, so guess what I get most of the time – “Do you do all your own research?” – usually accompanied by a nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Happens that I write romantic suspense, too, and, you know, every time I need to discover if arsenic gives a victim gutsache and how long for, I have to go out and find someone to practice on.
I’m not what you’d call mega famous, but sometimes at conventions I get “Look, it’s Lynne Connolly!” I’ve turned around more than once, wondering where she is. Wonder if Steven King is schizophrenic by now. He must get it a million times more than me and in all kinds of unexpected places.
I have to explain to people that I don’t think in a straight line. I volunteered for analysis on how my mind operates once, and I’m almost completely a lateral thinker. I think sideways. That means I make connections that make me think I’m insane. Maybe I am.
August 10, 2011 — 7:44 AM
Margaret y. says:
This is why most of my friends are writers. I have to surround myself with people who GET it.
August 10, 2011 — 7:47 AM
BA Boucher says:
All of the above and more.
Family is no help either. I published a short story in a anthology and got copies for my grandmother, parents, and in laws. I ran out of copies and because it was online order only it wasn’t a real book.
I was at a dinner with my Jewish grandmother once with some distant relatives and they asked what I was doing with my life.
I said, “I work for in marketing for a major stroller company, and I just got published in a anthology.”
Did the anthology pay? No.
Oh, I’ve seen those strollers, very nice did you design them? No. I wrote the words that go in the manual, websites, and packaging.
Oh, so what is it you do again?
Alas, I believe the romance with writers is dead
August 10, 2011 — 8:16 AM
Monster Zero says:
Some of my scriptwriter geek friends and I have an unwritten rule not to discuss plot arcs, season finales, character development and parenthicals in dialogue around Normals, mainly to avoid being rude and blocking people from understanding the conversation, as if we’d all suddenly switched to going DAK DAK DAK like something out of Mars Attacks.
Some of them don’t get that and will gleefully start talking about midseason plot twists, quoting lines of dialogue or discussing the best way to kill off a popular character, and much as I love each and every one of my buddies, I do sometimes wince, glance the way of the now glazed-eyed Normals and secretly think ‘oh, man… I’m sorry.’
The best scenario is a bunch of writer geeks together, no outsiders, because then you can indulge yourself conversationally without feeling like you’re the weird kids who had to sit downstairs on the bus. Because we’re not the weird kids, damn it. We’re dreamers and storytellers, and we SHOULD be darn proud of what we do!
Just not in front of the grownups. They’ll look at us funny and make us cry.
August 10, 2011 — 8:19 AM
Mike Kozlowski says:
Great post. Of course, like everyone else, I get a bit of all that you talked about. I think my “favorite” though is that, after people have found out I’m a writer, they are constantly “helping” me.
You know, every slightly funny, interesting, strange occurrence becomes something “that would make a great story” and that “I should write about.”
“Oh my God! Did you see that woman cut that guy off and almost make him crash? You should write a story about that!”
Me: “Well…you kinda just paraphrased the it all and…you know what? It’d be a shitty story without adding…um…everything to it.”
It seems hard for people to understand that every single thing that runs through their heads is not a fucking story. And I have enough of my own bad ideas that I don’t need to pile theirs on.
August 10, 2011 — 8:36 AM
Patrick Regan says:
This one’s a bit specific to being a screenwriter, but one thing that always gets under my skin is when I explain to people I write movies and I get a look that says:
“Ah. So not a real writer then.”
Or, you know, in one or two cases had it said outright to my face. Those by people who wrote prose. The prevailing feeling seems to be that writing for the movies doesn’t count, or is somehow easy because I don’t have to write that much description.
August 10, 2011 — 9:08 AM
Brandy says:
I think I must be in the minority of your readership, because I’m not at a point where I’d consider myself “a writer” – meaning, as in naming a profession or vocation. I’m a paper-pushing Desk Jockey to get the bills paid (exxxxcelllent benefits in the public sector….er, for the time being…:-/), and I write here and there, to get practice (because Dear Jesus do I need the practice!) and to connect with people who consider themselves writers. I figure they probably have some good advice and a thing or two to teach me. Like this Chuck Wendig person, for example…
But for now it’s I guess more of something I do for the fun of it. I would like to find a way to make writing a larger part of my life but I suppose I haven’t been quite creative enough in my thinking to be at that point yet. I’ve been looking into different places to submit fiction, but I also have thought recently about seeking out a little side work in technical writing.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to answer the dreaded “So what do *you do*?” question with something other than “I fix things for people whose advanced educations preclude them from being able to fill out forms correctly.”
August 10, 2011 — 9:10 AM
BJ Kerry says:
Why did you crawl inside my head and write my thoughts on your blog? and then some.
People; family and friends just don’t get it. Husband uses the word literary when he wants to get up my nose. But I have started to use it against people I don’t like eg do you mind if I model my next ‘ruthless killer sex fiend’ character on you/ your daughter etc. Sends them scurrying….usually. Except for the weirdos.
August 10, 2011 — 9:25 AM
Dave White says:
“You should get your book on Oprah!!”
August 10, 2011 — 9:40 AM
Tamara says:
Oh god, I get all of that, only instead of Stephen King, it’s J.K. Rowling. I can’t even… No. I can’t even.
Also, someone told me years ago they wanted to write a cookbook for teens, and I offered help to find an agent. Her response was – wait for it – “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need an agent. I did an English degree. Publishers will lap me up.”
What.
August 10, 2011 — 9:49 AM
James Knevitt says:
For me it usually happens in one of two ways, depending on whether I’m talking about my day job or not.
SCENARIO 1: DAY JOB
Them: “So what do you do?”
Me: “I’m a technical writer.” (day job)
Them: “So what does a technical writer, you know, do?”
Me: “Well, a tech writers do a lot of different things. I write service documentation for mass spectrometry and liquid chromatography instruments and systems.”
*Their eyes start to glaze over*
Me: *sigh* “I write stuff that tells other people how to fix things.”
Them: “Oh, well that doesn’t seem so hard.”
Me: “I need to know more mass spectrometers and liquid chromatography systems than the people using them, and the people using them are usually PhD-level graduates in tough scientific fields.”
Them: “Right, but how had can it be, really? I mean, you just write stuff, right?”
Me: *stab*
SCENARIO 2: THE WRITER THAT LIVES INSIDE ME
Them: “So what do you do?”
Me: “I’m a writer.”
*there’s a beat here as they assess whether I look like a writer or not*
Them: “Oh, okay. What do you write about?”
Me: “Well, I write fiction, mostly. Usually near-future science fiction.”
Them: “Oh, like Star Wars?”
Me: “Uh, no, not quite.”
Them: “Oh, so Star Trek or something like that.”
Me: “Closer, but no. Did you ever see [insert recent film that fits in the genre, because I know they’ve never read a single book beyond high school].”
Them: “Oh, no. That looked dumb.”
Me: “Okay then. Let me put it this way. I write about the future, but the future that might happen a few years or decades from now.”
Them: “Why would you want to do that?”
Me: “I find it interesting and enjoyable, mostly.”
Them: “Does anybody read that sort of stuff? I mean, anybody can be a writer, right? Why wouldn’t you write something that people want to read? you know, like Twilight or Harry Potter or something?”
Me: *stab*
August 10, 2011 — 9:50 AM
Amy Tupper says:
The natural followup would be the POV of the spouse who lives with said writer and has to field endless bizarre conversations relating to said writing.
My hubby would LOVE to see “What It’s Like Being A Partner to A Writer.” Oh, yeah, partner is right! We’re both in this basement together!
August 10, 2011 — 9:51 AM
James Knevitt says:
The situation as described above is complicated further when I say that I write RPG material as well, but I think Chuck covered that pretty well above.
August 10, 2011 — 9:51 AM
Patrick Regan says:
@Brandy:
I totally get where you’re coming from. I’m completely with Chuck here in terms of writing to get paid. The workman nature of the writing job, and how we should think of ourselves as craftsmen, who work every day at what we do.
At the same time, I also am with Robert Rodriguez, who said (paraphrasing): You don’t need some kind of special organization to give you a card that says you’re a filmmaker. Are you working on a film?
Congratulations. You’re a filmmaker. Go get some business cards printed.
August 10, 2011 — 9:52 AM
tmgray says:
It’s the scared or confused looks when I share a piece I want feedback on.
“It’s so dark, are you depressed?” –Probably, but that has nothing to do with the story.
“You wrote something mean/evil/racist/politically ‘wrong’/etc, why would you think things like that? Do you really believe ‘insert some random thought’?” –No, the CHARACTER believes that. My fiction is NOT entirely based on my real life or real thoughts. *whispers* that’s what makes it FICTION.
August 10, 2011 — 9:53 AM
Matthew Helmke says:
You nailed it! Great post.
I get a lot of “Oh, so you’re a technical writer? That doesn’t sound too hard.” Even after I describe the cutting edge, National Science Foundation-funded project I work for that only brilliant minds at the forefront of their fields are likely to use and for whom I create the technical manuals by learning both the technology and the science and translating between them. Sigh.
Well, I write other things, too. Magazine articles, those two books I wrote about Moroccan culture where I translated stuff from Arabic into English and used them to discuss arcane cultural tidbits that most foreigners never learn… “So, you take other people’s ideas and turn them into books?” Aargh.
I’m glad Christopher and James posted. I feel less alone. 🙂
August 10, 2011 — 10:09 AM
Lara says:
I know this conversation from a slightly different angle: I write as a hobby. So when people ask me “what do you like to do in your free time?” I can answer one of two ways: “I sit hunched over my computer for hours on end for much of my free time and read history books about culture and society” (which is technically true) or the slightly less vague “I write.”
What happens next is the usual back and forth about what-do-you-write I-write-about-dead-gay-boyfriends/kittens/wizards etc, followed–always, always–by this:
“Have you been published?” OR “So are you going to get something published?”
Okay, nebulous non-writer person, let me tell you what: Sure! I’d love to get something published eventually if the cards fall that way, or if I get off my butt and finish something I’d like to self-publish. At some point, yes, I will try! If for no other reason than it’s on my bucket list. But I’m not in a hurry to do it. I have a full-time job. I like my job. I don’t need to be published to enjoy writing. I don’t need to be published to feel fulfilled by writing.
When you say you play with your dog in your free time, I don’t ask you when you’re going to quit your job and become a dog trainer or a veterinarian, or if you have professionally-produced video of you and your dog to prove it, or if you will show me RIGHT NOW.
So yes, then you get the look, the nod, and the polite smile. It’s like if they can’t quantify your writing with a physical product, even if you tell them that’s not really what you’re focused on at the moment, you’re not a “real” writer to them. You’re a POSEUR.
Nebulous non-writer person, I am still a writer, even when I haven’t written a word for six months. I will always be a writer even if no one ever pays me for my work. I will always be a writer, no matter what. The authorial virus has no cure.
Luckily I can derail this conversation now by pointing out that I wrote freelance for a website for a while, but STILL.
(I build entire worlds from nothing but the sparking of random neurons! I AM GOD! I breathe life into man, woman, and creature for my own amusement and I can take it away on a whim! And what do YOU do in your free time? Your dog? Oh, that’s cute.)
So here are the things I’d like non-writers to know:
1) Every writer is a special snowflake with a different goal. We do not all want to write the next NYT bestseller or Great American Novel. And that is really, really okay and you shouldn’t judge us for that choice.
2) No, I am not “writing” every time I am typing. Okay technically I am. Or technically not, because I’m not holding a pen; I’m typing. Now I am confused. But I’m not Writing writing just because I’m typing.
3) I am an Observer. I like to watch people. This doesn’t mean I’m a creep, unless you count cataloguing people’s actions and speech rhythms for my own future reference as creepy. It’s not like I know where they live. Or want to. Unless it would be an interesting place to write about? Then maybe. >_>
4) No, I am not going to write a book about your hilarious workplace. No one wants to read about your miserable job. They read to escape that bullshit. (Former coworkers, I am talking to you.)
August 10, 2011 — 10:32 AM
Julia says:
This is not what you asked for, but. I don’t consider myself a writer – not like you are, anyway. I do write on my blog and I write book reviews (for MONEY, which is awesome) and maybe someday I will write a book; I would like to. But it would be nonfiction. I have no ability to do Creative Writing. So, if I’m a writer, which I’m not sure I am, I’m not the kind of writer you are mostly writing to, here.
But! I am a librarian, and we have some things in common, like: when people ask what I do and I tell them, they often say “oh how CUTE! do we still have libraries?” or “oh, that’s great! so you just read for a living!” They are also usually astonished to learn that it takes a master’s degree. 🙂 I just saw some similarities there and thought I’d share. Also working in a bike shop… “oh, what a cool job, you get to ride bikes all day” (WHAT? who told you that’s what working in a bike shop meant?) …maybe my point here is, many jobs are misunderstood and underestimated.
Not that you aren’t special (or especially misunderstood!) though. Without writers, I daresay you would need neither librarians nor book reviewers. So thanks. 🙂
August 10, 2011 — 11:02 AM
Samuraiko says:
Oh Gods, I get this too. I, however, have no qualms whatsoever about being truthful (read: snarky).
THEM: “And what do you do?”
ME: “Primarily, technical writer.”
THEM: “What’s that?”
ME: “Oh, I translate instructions from ‘Dev’, ‘Marketing’, and ‘Code’ into something people like you can read.”
*CUE DEAFENING SILENCE*
ME: “You know, stuff like instructions, for when people *think* they’re smart enough to do stuff without reading the manual, but then need it after breaking it or nearly formatting their computers or something?
*DEAFENING SILENCE CONTINUES, FOLLOWING BY A SLIGHTLY GUILTY BLUSH*
ME: “Yep, someone’s gotta write that stuff. That’s me. Pays well, too.”
*DEAFENING SILENCE CONTINUES, THEN THEY SLOWLY RECOVER LIKE A FISH TOSSED BACK INTO WATER*
THEM: “Oh… what… else do you write?”
ME: “Smut.”
*CUE HORRIFIED DEAFENING SILENCE*
ME: “And sometimes instructions for that, too.”
I’ve seen people leave vapor trails as they flee. 🙂
August 10, 2011 — 11:20 AM
Elizabeth Poole says:
I second everything you and the subsequent commenter have said. I am a massage therapist by day (writer extraordinaire at night, like a Lady Batman. Instead of fighting crime, I fight the blank page).
When most of my clients find out I am a writer, they always ask what sort of books I write. I say fantasy. This is invariably met with “Oh, like Harry Potter?” (Yes. Just like Harry Potter. An entire genre is devoted to one book series.) or worse since I live in the Bible belt, I get a lecture about how magic isn’t real, blah blah blah. Yeah, I know it’s not real. I am the one making it up, remember?
The best part is when the client proceeds to tell me their life story and how it would make a great book. No seriously, telling me about your crazy life doesn’t mean you’re memoir-gold. Promise.
Or when they tell me they have a great idea and how I could write the book and we’d share the profits, like Kiara talked about. Like the idea is the hard part, and I am just going to jot down the next Great American Novel during my lunch break.
Chuck, I also wanted to tell you thanks for the penmonkey paean. I have the wallpaper on my desktop, and with the help of the Paean and my writer friends, I have finally finished my rewrite. I thought at times the book was going to kill me, but I have FINALLY finished the shit I started. I was tempted at times to give up. But I kept saying “I will finish the shit I started.” (over and over like a crazy person…it might be written all over my walls at this point). So thanks!
@James Knevitt: I LOVE near-future science fiction! It’s such an under rated genre. Have you read “Shelter” by Susan Palwick?
August 10, 2011 — 11:38 AM
David Gillaspie says:
Two favorites, first my dad:
“A writer? You’re a writer? Who said you could be a writer?”
Me: You did, Dad. Who else is going to know all there is to know about you. Excuse me, I need to take some notes.
And this quote, though not an exact quote : “Writer, huh? Listen pal, we’re all writers. Most of us learned to write in first grade; most of us moved on.”
My favorite: “You write a blog no one cares about. If they did you’d have money offers. Just because you have a hundred thousand hits doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just you logging in to build the base.”
Me: “Thanks, honey. I think I’ll post a four part series on spouses of writers with your picture. I’ll get the camera, you straddle the broom and wear this pointy hat.”
Wife: “Get a real job. Costco is hiring.”
Me: “I’ll be in my room.”
Wife: “Would it kill you to pick it up once in a while? The cleaning lady’s coming tomorrow. She can organize your mess.”
Me: “It’s not a mess.”
Wife: “You live in a dream world. Wake up.”
Me: “I love you too. Let’s play a game of Hollywood producer and Starlet.”
Wife: “What’s that, one of your writing games?”
Me: “Get under the desk and I’ll explain the rules.”
August 10, 2011 — 11:38 AM
H.N. James says:
@Julia I appreciated your response. I’m currently in an MLIS program, about 2/3 of the way through, and I’m also tired of the “oh, so which library are you going to work in?”, the answer to which is that I may possibly never work IN the kind of library people are thinking of again. And don’t you love “Oh, you need a Master’s degree to check out books to people?” I was as annoyed as everyone else by Seth Godin’s recent post about libraries and librarians. MAYBE 50 years ago you could go into librarianship because you just “liked books” (but I doubt it), but today, you need strong analytical skills and tech skills. Alas, I don’t think some of my classmates understand that. Anyway, yeah. I’m not an author. I’ve had a story published. I write. But I rarely talk about it with people who are not of the tribe.
Also, I teach water aerobics. In fact, I teach INCREDIBLY ASS-KICKING water aerobics. “Oh, so you teach swimming?” “No, I kick your ass. Mostly while vertical in the water.” “Oh, so that’s for old people.” “Not the way I teach it although I do have older students”. But what SLAYS ME on a mostly daily basis are the students I have who are TEACHERS who come into my aquatic classroom and behave in exactly the way they would never tolerate in students in THEIR classrooms. Because, I’m not a real teacher. And learning about exercise isn’t real learning. I mean, everybody just knows how to do it, right?
WRONG.
August 10, 2011 — 11:49 AM
Ben Wallace says:
If they are condescending, like writing a novel is easy, I just ask to see the book they wrote. Usually puts it in perspective for them. Though,truthfully, I usually get some admiration and they tell me how I’ve inspired them. That more than makes up for the ones that don’t get it.
August 10, 2011 — 11:56 AM
Cinco says:
Oh lordy I love me this post. And in truth, one of the responses I get most often is the ‘you’re from another planet, aren’t you?’ look. Sometimes that’s mingled with the ‘you’re one of those people on the fringe of society, like Trekkers and Furries’ looks.
Thank God I’ve got the best family; they know better than to interrupt me when I’m writing. Only exceptions are fires and earthquakes.
August 10, 2011 — 12:16 PM
Jamie Wyman says:
I get a double dose of, “Wow you just need to get a real job.” When I tell people I’m a writer and have to answer that no, I’m not published yet (without going into the lurid story of my flake of an ex-agent), they inevitably ask, “So what else do you do?”
I am a stay-at-home-mom.
‘Oh, so you’re just lazy and living off your husband,’ is the look I get. I’d like to see anyone try to write a novel (a good one, by the way) and manage a household and educate and entertain a small human being while simultaneously NOT just plopping said tiny human in front of PBS for 8 hours a day.
Can I just say that I’m thrilled that my daughter will go back to school next week because it means I get to actually WRITE again? I swear, that child has a spider sense that lets her know if I even THINK of opening a word document and it’s that that moment that she wants to do physics experiments with me.
Anywho, it’s not easy to be one of us. You’ve got these stories taking up your brain power, you’re trying to make them not only good, but better and marketable and go on about your daily business at the same time. It’s not like walking and chewing gum. And if you’re doing edits? Please, when I do edits I’m lucky if my brain doesn’t assume the consistency of tapioca pudding and twitch in response to yes/no questions.
I wish writing/creating burned calories. Then someone might believe it’s work. (And I’d be buff.)
August 10, 2011 — 12:19 PM