What People Get Wrong About My Job
Introduction: Not Just Long Walks in the Woods
When I tell people I’m a writer, there’s often a pause. Then, inevitably, the same responses tumble out like droplets from a leaky faucet: “Oh, that must be so relaxing!” or “I wish I could make a living by sitting around and journaling all day” or my personal favorite, “So, you’re basically like Carrie Bradshaw, right?”
First of all: no, I do not prance around in overpriced stilettos while typing about Boy Trouble™ on a MacBook. Secondly, being a writer—especially one who translates the chaos of human relationships into digestible advice—is neither as serene nor as effortless as people think.
Let me pull back the curtain and reveal exactly what my job entails and what people tend to get so hilariously wrong about it. Spoiler alert: it’s less “sipping coffee pensively by the sea” and more “trying to untangle other people’s emotional spaghetti, often from the comfort of my perpetually crumb-strewn desk.”
1. Myth: Writers Have Endless Free Time
Reality: Deadlines Will Haunt You Like a Ghost Wearing a Watch
If I had a dime for every time someone said, “You must have so much flexibility!” I’d have enough to build my own lighthouse on Bar Harbor’s rocky coast and hide from deadlines forever.
Sure, I don’t punch in at 9 a.m. or schlep my laptop to a cubicle every day, but that doesn’t mean I’m free to frolic through tidepools or go on spontaneous hikes to chase a sunrise. Writing is juggling: deadlines, pitches, edits, rewrites, and emails from editors that begin with, “Hey, quick question—can you turn this around by tomorrow?”
True story: Once, while visiting Acadia in January, a piece I’d pitched months before came back with a bright red asap plastered in the subject line. So there I was, sitting in a café with a half-frozen laptop, turning the only Wi-Fi spot within miles into my mobile office.
Don’t get me wrong—I love my job. I get to write about the dance between love, self-discovery, and connection. But flexible? Only in the way a yoga instructor warns you to “honor your limits” as you fold into an unnatural pretzel.
Key Takeaway: Behind every breezy essay or witty dating article is a writer who has, at some point, had to cancel dinner plans to make a deadline.
2. Myth: The Words Just Flow Like a Maine Waterfall
Reality: Writing Can Feel Like Dredging a Tidepool at Low Tide
Picture this: you’re walking along Bar Harbor’s rocky shoreline as the tide recedes. What’s left behind are tidepools brimming with life—tiny crabs, stranded starfish, and iridescent anemones waiting to be discovered. Writing is not like that.
Instead, it’s like staring at an empty tidepool and wondering why nothing is showing up. Some days, the words come out strong and steady. Other days? It’s like trying to coax a shy lobster out of its crevice: slow, awkward, and riddled with existential questioning.
Even a 1,000-word article on breakups can take hours (and multiple snack breaks) if the ideas aren’t cooperating. Last week, I spent more time planning an analogy about dating than I’ve spent packing for an actual romantic getaway.
There’s also research, editing, and rewrites to factor in, and let’s not forget the agonizing doubt: Will readers actually care about my hot take on meeting your partner’s dog for the first time?
Key Takeaway: Writing is deeply rewarding, but it’s equal parts excavation, creativity, and caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.
3. Myth: “Your Job Must Be So Glamorous!”
Reality: Pajamas and Unwashed Coffee Mugs, Mostly
Allow me to shatter the illusion once and for all: my “office” is often a chaotic blend of yoga pants, stacks of dog-eared notebooks, and whatever snack I’ll inevitably drop crumbs from into my keyboard.
Truthfully, my proximity to nature should lend itself to rustic inspiration. And sure, there are days when I walk along the cliffsides of Acadia and jot down poetic musings about the salt air and the way relationships mimic tidal rhythms.
Then there are the other days, when I’m peer-pressuring myself to watch “Love Is Blind” episodes for research, knowing full well this means explaining to other humans why I spent an entire Wednesday writing about whether someone can ever truly love you if they hate your favorite soup.
I’ve never taken coffee meetings in midtown Manhattan or signed book deals from trendy Soho cafés. Most of my writing happens with Spotify’s lo-fi beats humming in the background while my cat attempts to knock my iPad into oblivion.
Key Takeaway: It’s less high-fashion Carrie Bradshaw, more small-town hermit who occasionally ventures outside for fresh air.
4. Myth: “You Must Have All Your Relationship Advice Worked Out”
Reality: I’m Learning As I Go, Just Like You Are
If you think writing about relationships means I live in a constant state of romantic enlightenment, allow me to laugh hysterically while blotting marinara sauce off my favorite sweatshirt.
Yes, I write about love and connection with authority, but that doesn’t mean I’ve unlocked the dating equivalent of the Rosetta Stone. Much of my advice comes from trial, error, and the occasional mortifying misstep. For example:
- The time I overanalyzed three emojis for four solid hours because I was certain they contained the secret to someone’s true feelings. (Spoiler: They didn’t.)
- The blind date where both of us accidentally ordered the same dish sans garlic and laughed awkwardly for 90 minutes. Were we trying to impress each other? Probably. Did it result in romance? No. But I did leave with a good story.
Writing about relationships isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about exploring the messy, beautiful, utterly unpredictable experiences that make us human. I don’t claim to be flawless—but I do know how to help others ask the right questions and trust themselves a little more.
Key Takeaway: Relationships are a process, not a prescription. I’m still figuring out mine—and that’s okay.
5. Myth: “It’s All About Romance!”
Reality: Relationships Are Just the Tip of the Iceberg
While it’s true I spend a lot of time waxing poetic about dating quirks (ask me about the universal phenomenon of texting “lol” when a joke wasn’t funny), my job isn’t solely about romance.
Connecting with others—whether it’s in love, friendship, or those sticky in-between spaces—pulls us deeper into understanding ourselves. Writing about it requires looking at everything: family dynamics, personal growth, communication, even the way we’re impacted by shared experiences like a global pandemic or a really bad season finale.
Maine, with its tides that rise and fall predictably yet powerfully, often reminds me of this balance. The same forces that draw people closer to love also push them toward self-discovery. It’s all connected, and that connectedness is what I aim for in my work.
Key Takeaway: Writing about relationships isn’t just about romance—it’s about understanding the universal currents that pull us together.
Conclusion: Keep the Magic, But Know the Truth
Do I love being a writer? Absolutely. Do I spend more time overthinking word choices than I’d like to admit? Also yes.
The next time you picture a writer’s life, don’t imagine a serene retreat lit by perfectly Instagrammable sunsets. Think instead of a person scribbling furiously while reheating yesterday’s coffee, brainstorming analogies in their sweatpants, and looking for ways to make messy human connections just a little easier to understand.
Being a writer isn’t glamorous, but it’s real—and that’s what matters most. Catch me by the tidepools.
