What People Get Wrong About My Job

There’s a curious magic in telling someone, “I’m a writer.” For a moment, their eyes light up like I’ve just revealed I moonlight as Meryl Streep’s dialect coach. The word “writer” summons big ideas: lavish book tours, deadline-free inspiration wafting through a cedar-paneled study, or feverishly penning novels by candlelight, interrupted only by the crash of waves outside my window. If that sounds like your perfect Hallmark movie, kudos to your imagination. (Truly, it’s better than my own sometimes.) But as much as I’d love to perpetuate the myth, let’s get one thing straight: being a writer is rarely the dreamy calling card of Hollywood films or sweeping period dramas. At least, not in the way you think.

The misconceptions, as it turns out, are plenty.

Myth #1: Writers Only Work When Inspiration Strikes

Ah, yes. The tortured artist reclines on a chaise lounge, waiting for her muse, writing only when the stars align. Picture me instead: parked at my tiny wooden table in worn-out yoga pants, scrolling three tabs of Google results for something as mundane as “Marriage customs in 1840s Massachusetts.” There’s tea involved (there’s always tea), but the romance stops at the first sentence I can’t quite force onto the page.

Writing is less an art form and more like sailing a finicky schooner. The wind direction is unpredictable, the rigging needs constant adjustment, and some days, I find myself on an open sea, hopelessly blown off course. People like to ask if I’m inspired “all the time.” To which I reply: “Not even remotely.” Inspiration comes only after a disciplined schedule, copious second drafts, and the occasional tantrum I’ll later deny. Writing is work—the joyful kind, yes—but it’s tethered less to magic and more to calendars, deadlines, and snack breaks.

Tip from your friendly neighborhood writer: Treat creativity like hospitality. Invite it in, offer tea, but don’t wait all day to clean your parlor. Sometimes the muse shows up, but sometimes you have to make her a to-do list.

Myth #2: Writers Just… Make Stuff Up

People often assume my job’s foundation is whimsical daydreaming. “You just come up with all this? Out of nowhere?” they’ll ask, eyebrows reaching hairlines. And sure, imagining characters or stories might sound like conjuring rabbits from silk hats. But if conjuring requires digging up centuries-old histories, small-town secrets, or lobster-pound gossip, then call me Houdini.

Take, for instance, my novel-writing process. In one book, a sub-subplot involved a 19th-century captain court-martialed for stealing cargo. That single line required hours spent poring over maritime law, antique newspapers, and a trip to the university archives. Every fictitious exchange at a fictional lighthouse? Grounded in careful research because Maine readers, especially longtime captains, will fact-check me harder than the IRS during tax season.

The takeaway? Writing isn’t “making stuff up.” It’s weaving lived details (often obscure ones) into something believable. Think of it as constructing a ship in a bottle: precise, meticulous, and weirdly addictive to get right. Want to try arranging tiny rigging ropes with tweezers? That’s essentially my relationship with verbs.

Myth #3: Writers Are Natural Romantics

The single most common thing people ask when they hear I write about love: “Are you some kind of expert?” I hate to ruin the fantasy, but being an author of romance doesn’t make me a guru. I’ve both nailed and mangled relationships like anyone else. I still lie awake running through awkward first dates and text-confirmed breakups. Once, I accidentally threw a hand-knit scarf of sentimental importance into a candle fire. (The relationship didn’t survive. Neither did the scarf.)

Writing romance isn’t about perfect execution; it’s about investigating what makes love resilient and fragile at the same time. My job is finding emotional truths—not always the neatly tied kind. Love, I’ve learned, is complicated, slippery, and rarely mirrors a couple walking hand-in-hand through fog along Cape Porpoise. It’s more lobster bibs on a second date, shared silence during hard conversations, and staying for dessert when you’re tempted to leave. Romantic? Maybe not on paper. But real? Oh, absolutely.

Myth #4: Writers Are Solitude Masters

The lobstermen I grew up watching always seemed comfortable alone: one captain with his vessel, salt air in the sails, industrious in wild quiet. It’s a romantic image, but not one I’ve entirely adopted. Being a writer does involve solitude—I often joke my knuckles might fuse to my keyboard if I’m not careful—but solitude also whispers something dangerous. It can isolate you, in writing and relationships alike.

So, let’s set the record straight. Writers need people. We need awkward conversations at coffee shops that birth dialogue ideas. We need early readers (our cheerleaders and critics) and emotional grounding. Once, while drafting a chapter about drifting friendships, my best friend invited me to join a last-minute game night. I went, reluctantly, only to realize the way my characters were navigating their relationships didn’t ring authentic until I’d relearned it for myself. Lived connections fuel what we recreate on the page—as long as we’re willing to step away.

Myth #5: Writers Lead Glamorous Lives

Let me set the scene: I’m hunched over a laptop, gazing at last week’s first draft too ashamed to call anything but drivel. My houseplants mock me from the windowsill, desperate for water. Half my tea is cold, and there’s a collection of caramel wrappers by my cup. Glamour? I’d settle for a solid outline.

To outsiders, writers seem swanky. Book signings! Fancy pens! Headshots in dramatic lighting! It’s true I’ve had my share of lovely evenings, glass of Chardonnay in hand, recounting the “art” behind my latest work to a polite audience in Kennebunk’s coziest bookstore. But the image ignores that writing, like relationships, is built more on everyday grit than glittering accolades. It’s far less sleek and far more rewarding than it looks on social media.

The Truth: Writing is a Process, Not a Pretense

Here’s the thing I wish more people knew about being a writer: it’s not a high-wire act but a plodding kind of craftsmanship. Sure, I believe in beauty, the kind found in rhythmic sentences or the first crack of dialogue that feels alive. I love taping inspiration to coastal Maine landscapes or tracing tide-washed metaphors. But the beauty we savor—whether in writing or relationships—is built through patience and curiosity.

Curious about what a writer does all day? Picture all the mundane little habits: notebooks stuffed with scratchy notes, long walks to untangle plot holes, mornings dedicated to editing merely two paragraphs. Writing isn’t some grand creative whoosh; it’s committing to shows of ordinary joy.

If you’re still tempted to call it glamorous, meet me at my kitchen table. Bring tea. If I look frazzled, congratulations: you’ve captured a writer’s true habitat.