What People Get Wrong About My Job: Demystifying the Life of a Writer

Writing Isn’t All Coffee Shops and Epiphanies

There’s this lingering Hollywood myth about writers—cue the sepia-toned montage. I’m supposed to sit in a sun-dappled coffee shop, a latte in hand, waiting for inspiration to strike like a lightning bolt from Zeus himself. What follows is a prolific outpouring of brilliance as passersby gaze at me in awe, thinking, Wow, there goes an artist changing the world with words.

Let me squash that fantasy once and for all. Writing, especially as a profession, looks less like a polished rom-com scene and more like staring at your laptop for three hours, typing one mediocre sentence, deleting it out of frustration, and then going to the kitchen because you suddenly “need” a snack to ease the agony. If this sounds painfully unglamorous, that’s because it is.

The truth is, being a writer often feels like you're cobbling together Ikea furniture without instructions—just hoping the final product somehow resembles a desk. A good piece of writing doesn’t spring forth fully formed like Venus from the waves; it’s wrestled, argued with, and polished into existence. And some days? It fights back hard.

“So, You’re a Writer. Where’s My Free Book?”

Let’s settle another misconception while we’re here: being a writer doesn’t mean I have a stockpile of completed books waiting to be handed out at family reunions like party favors. If I had a dollar for every time someone smirked and said, So, you’ve got notebooks full of ideas, huh?, I’d have enough to fund a very comfortable monthly coffee habit.

The truth is, writing takes time. If you pop into my home office, you won’t find me surrounded by shelves of my own work like a narcissistic literary dragon hoarding its treasure. Instead, you’ll find pages of edits, marked up with a red pen like my 10th-grade English teacher is still out for blood. My process involves drafts upon drafts of words that get better only through a labor of love, sprinkled with self-doubt and existential crises.

It’s kind of like dating—your first take rarely represents your best self. The stunning final draft you see is the result of countless rewrites, moments of frustration, and a lot of hoping no one notices the typos I missed during my fifth “final” round of edits.

The Creative Process: 20% Writing, 80% Arguing with Myself

If writing were just about stringing words together, this job would be a breeze. But writing requires inhabiting different perspectives, crafting authentic narratives, and making words speak to people. That’s the magic—and the pain—of it all.

Take this article, for instance. Before writing it, I spent half an hour side-eyeing a blank Google Doc, giving myself an internal TED Talk titled: How to Stop Overthinking and Just Start Typing. Spoiler alert: those TED Talks rarely work.

For me, the process often includes a lot of pacing around my living room, allowing random thoughts—half ideas and failed metaphors—to crash into each other until something coherent emerges. It’s like hosting a chaotic brainstorming session in your own head, where the only feedback you get is yourself saying, Wow, that’s terrible. Try again.

When I hit a creative wall? I go back to my roots. Growing up in a bustling Jamaican American household taught me a lot about storytelling—watching relatives swap tales at family gatherings, with bursts of laughter and voices rising over the hum of a pot of curry goat on the stove. These were raw, unfiltered moments of connecting through shared truths, and they still guide me when I feel creatively stuck. Writing isn’t just about words; it’s about capturing the rhythm, the feeling, and the heart of a story.

Deadlines Are the Real MVPs

You want the unvarnished truth about writers? Most of us wouldn’t finish anything without deadlines. Deadlines are the scary but necessary drill sergeant of this job, demanding you get your act together long before you feel “ready.” And trust me, you’re never ready.

Somehow, that looming timer in the background forces you into focus. It’s like cramming for finals in college, except instead of textbooks, I’m surrounded by sticky notes that say things like, Does this paragraph make sense?!!?? (Spoiler: It probably doesn’t.) Yet, without deadlines, I’d tinker endlessly, adjusting a single sentence for two weeks until it no longer looks like English.

Fun fact: You’re also required to have a thick skin in this line of work. Editors will give feedback you didn’t ask for but absolutely need. "This part’s weak," they’ll say casually, while you clutch your chest like your child just called you boring. But they’re almost always right. Writing is as much about collaboration as it is creativity—and learning to take critique is how you grow.

Common Myths I’d Like to Debunk

Let’s have some rapid-fire myth-busting, shall we?

  1. Writers Make Tons of Money
    Oh, sweet summer child. Unless you’re riding the wave of a bestseller or hobnobbing in Hollywood, writing isn’t quite the cash cow you think. Most writers juggle several gigs—freelancing, teaching, or writing sponsored content on the side—to stay afloat.

  2. Writing Is Purely Creative Freedom
    Sure, if you’re journaling for fun. But professional writing often involves adhering to briefs, word counts, client expectations, and SEO guidelines (Google is the one true algorithmic overlord). It’s a balancing act between creative flair and technical precision.

  3. You’re Always Writing About What You Love
    I love exploring deep relationships, culture, and the inner workings of D.C.—but sometimes, to pay the bills, you find yourself writing how-to guides for vacuum cleaner maintenance. Don’t judge.

  4. Writers Work Alone
    Nah. Even solo writers lean on communities of editors, colleagues, and readers. Writing is solitary in execution but communal in impact. We don’t create in a vacuum.

Lessons I’ve Learned Along the Way

Writers often exist in liminal spaces. We’re observers, chroniclers, and storytellers who try to capture the intricacies of human experiences. It’s a position of privilege but also an ongoing challenge.

Here’s what I’ve come to embrace:

  • Be Brave Enough to Write Badly: The first draft is supposed to be messy. You can’t fix the blank page until you put something—anything—down.

  • Draw from Life: My best writing isn’t about lofty ideas; it’s grounded in real moments. Like the time my dad told me the story of how he courted my mom, walking miles in the sweltering Kingston heat just to tell her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Authenticity speaks louder than prose trying too hard to sound “literary.”

  • Celebrate Small Wins: Did you write a single paragraph today? Go you. Consistency is the secret sauce of the craft, not grandeur.

Writing as a Mirror, Not a Mask

At its core, writing keeps you honest. It reflects your insecurities, your strengths, and your humanity. Some days, I feel like an impostor chasing perfect sentences. Other days, the words flow like water, carrying with them pieces of myself I didn’t even know I had to give.

So, to those who think being a writer is a whimsical, straightforward career—let me shatter that illusion. Is it hard? Absolutely. Does it make you question your life choices occasionally? Without a doubt.

But when someone reads what you’ve written and says, That spoke to me…well, that’s its own kind of magic. And that magic? That makes all the snack-fueled existential meltdowns worth it.