What People Get Wrong About My Job
Picture this: You meet someone new at a barbecue or your cousin’s wedding, and they ask what you do for a living. “I’m a writer,” I say, with that mix of pride and preemptive patience writers must develop. Their eyes light up, their mind racing to whatever wild misconception they have about my career. “Oh, like Carrie Bradshaw?” someone inevitably asks.
Not quite. Unless Carrie ever wrote her column at 2 a.m. in sweatpants while simultaneously negotiating with her internet provider because her Wi-Fi cut out again in the middle of researching relationship studies. Or unless the iconic Sex and the City columnist paused her glamorous dates to rewrite an entire draft about emotional avoidance because her editor said, “This is good but could you make it... more?”
So, what do people get wrong about my job as a relationship writer? Buckle in, because much like modern love, it’s more complicated than it seems.
Myth #1: I Spend My Days Giving Simple, Breezy Advice
Here's the reality: When I write about relationships, I'm not lobbing out Pinterest-level platitudes about “living, laughing, and loving.” A lot of the work involves digging into complex interpersonal dynamics—why people ghost, how attachment styles influence our communication, or why your ex always shows up in your dreams the week you’re finally moving on.
Research is a big part of what I do. I’ve fallen down academic rabbit holes about oxytocin and its effects on human bonding. I’ve read journals about nonverbal communication so dense I started dreaming in APA citations. Writing a piece that’s both relevant and engaging means striking the perfect balance between being relatable (insert friends-with-benefits jokes here) and rooted in reliable data.
Takeaway: The next time someone writes, “The One” is coming if you just raise your vibrations and manifest properly, remember: That’s not relationship advice—that’s astrology.
Myth #2: Writing About Relationships Means I’m Perfect at Them
Let me clear this up: If I write about love and dating, it doesn’t mean I’ve mastered those things. I’m still very much human. Letting my Navajo aunties set me up on a “nice traditional match”? Check. Accidentally buying tickets to a concert on the night my partner had planned a surprise dinner? Oh, absolutely.
Writing about relationships doesn’t mean I don’t argue with my partner about whose turn it is to take out the recycling or occasionally wallow in post-breakup playlists that should’ve been left in my early twenties. What it does mean is that I might process things through writing (or overanalyze them for inspiration).
Think of it this way: A food critic still burns their toast sometimes. A travel blogger isn’t immune to airport delays. And me—even with my extensive writing about boundaries, communication, and reciprocity—let’s just say I’m still a student of love, not a professor.
Takeaway: Writer or not, everyone’s relationships are beautifully messy. And none of us have all the answers—not even that one smug Instagram therapist who says otherwise.
Myth #3: Romance Writing is All Fun and Flirting
Sure, there’s joy in writing about meeting someone who makes you feel all the fireworks (or at least something adjacent to the thrill of finding fries in your takeout bag). But it’s not always flirty anecdotes and swoony reflections.
People forget that relationships also mean breakups. Grief. Moving on. I write about the hard stuff, too—how to let go of a toxic partner, how to recognize red flags you wish you’d seen sooner, or that stubborn ache when someone you loved deeply is no longer in your life.
When I was writing about heartbreak for a recent piece, my own experiences were front and center. I thought about the time I said goodbye to someone I genuinely believed was my forever, even though all the signs pointed to endings rather than beginnings. Or the way I stayed too long in places that didn’t honor me. Writing means revisiting these raw moments and constructing them into something useful—not just for me, but for the reader searching for clarity or hope.
Takeaway: Heartwarming love stories are fun to write, but it’s the tough realities that often resonate the most. That’s where the real work—and healing—happens.
Myth #4: This Stuff Writes Itself
People assume that as a “natural writer,” words flow effortlessly. Like I’m sitting under a tree with a fancy pen, sipping chai tea while genius inspiration pours out of me. Hate to spoil the fantasy, but writing involves staring at a blinking cursor for hours, wondering if “spark” is the right word or if “chemistry” hits better.
Here’s a small look behind the scenes: Every witty line, emotional revelation, or call-to-action you see in my essays took multiple revisions, some well-timed snacks, and occasional pacing around my apartment. Inspiration might fuel the first draft, but discipline finishes the piece. And deadlines? Oh, they don’t care about your artistic blocks or your Mercury retrograde excuses.
Also, writing about relationships means confronting my own stuff. Drafting articles often sends me reflecting, squirming, or texting my therapist, “OK, but what if I’m the problem?” The beauty of this job is the self-discovery—but wow, sometimes it’s like holding a giant mirror up to the parts you’d rather ignore.
Takeaway: Good writing isn’t magic; it’s devotion. And for every polished piece, there’s a Google Doc filled with chaotic drafts and late-night musings.
Myth #5: Everyone Loves What I Do
Here’s a funny thing about writing about love: Not everyone loves hearing your thoughts on it. You’d think this would come with an air of romance and admiration for your labor. But sometimes—especially at family dinners—you get a little too much unsolicited input.
“Do you really need to be writing about our personal stories online?” (I didn’t mention anyone by name, Uncle Carl. Relax.)
“Do people actually pay you to write about dating?” (Yes. Fun fact: Talking about healthy relationships is a billion-dollar industry, Aunt Linda.)
Sometimes, even online readers chime in. A guy once commented on one of my articles to tell me, “You wouldn't need so much research if you just stuck to basic instincts.” (Ah, yes. Truly a missed opportunity to just vibe my way through understanding complex human emotions.)
Takeaway: People will always have opinions about what you do. At the end of the day, you have to focus on who you’re helping, not who’s doubting you.
What Writing About Relationships Has Taught Me
Writing about love, dating, and connection has taught me that romantic myths aren’t limited to fairy tales—we carry a lot of them in our daily lives about work, relationships, and ourselves. The biggest takeaway? It’s okay to not be a perfect partner, writer, or human. True connection—whether in your love life, your family, or even at work—comes from embracing imperfection and committing to growth anyway.
So, no, I’m not the Carrie Bradshaw people imagine. I’m Tiana Whitewolf—a former cultural liaison turned relationship writer who combines insight, lived experience, and a touch of sass. And while my job may not always fit neatly into a rom-com script, it’s a labor of love. Just like the relationships we all swim through, one messy, beautiful moment at a time.
