What They Think I Do, and What I Actually Do

Let’s play a quick game of Two Truths and a Lie, writer-style:
1. I sip oat milk lattes in a sun-drenched Brooklyn café while typing out pages of sizzling dialogue.
2. I’m frequently approached at parties—often with holding-a-wine-glass confidence by strangers—who tell me they’ve “always wanted to write a book, if only they had the time.”
3. I spend most of my days channeling heartbreak, humor, and two-month-old deadline panic into relationships content.

Spoiler alert: All three are true, depending on the day (and, in the case of #2, the level of unprovoked honesty in strangers). But beyond the stereotypes of quippy Instagram captions and perfectly tailored words lies an ocean of misconceptions about what my job as a relationships writer actually entails.

So, grab your favorite drink (oat milk latte optional), and let’s get into what people think my job is—and the surprising work it really involves.

Myths vs. Realities of the Romance Writer Life

Myth 1: “You must be a love guru!”

Reality: I have my “I’m in my feelings” playlists ready to go like everyone else.

Sure, I write about love, dating, and relationships, and yes, I can break down attachment styles like a BuzzFeed personality quiz gone academic, but let’s clear something up: Introspection ≠ perfection. Writing about modern romance doesn’t mean I’ve cracked the code on soulmate math. Heck, sometimes I’m just another person sitting across from the wrong date at a noodle shop wondering why I didn’t text my group chat an escape code earlier.

The difference is this: As a writer, I’m forced to confront and untangle the messy realities of love and human connection from every angle. It’s like being at the front row of a never-ending Beyoncé concert where you’re taking notes instead of dancing. You learn a lot, sure, but you’re still human.

If anything, I’m less of a guru and more of a genuinely curious observer. I recognize the patterns, highlight the lessons, and share them—often through a lens of hard-earned humility.

Myth 2: “You write all day about feelings? Must be so easy!”

Reality: Feelings are the easy part—making them relatable is where the magic (read: sweat) happens.

Writing about relationships requires more than casually tapping into emotional epiphanies. (Though I’d honestly pay to have “romantic insight” delivered via same-day shipping.) My job is to take something as universal yet deeply unique as love and distill it into words that resonate.

You know that awkward pause during a first date when someone says something off-key, and you’re unsure whether to smile politely or fake a phone emergency? Yeah, my job is boiling that down to, “Here’s why acknowledging discomfort can help you gauge emotional compatibility.”

Bringing emotional truths into a narrative takes research (offbeat psychological studies, anyone?) paired with a balancing act of humor and poignancy. Basically, for every “aha!” moment you see in an article, there’s likely two cups of coffee and hours of me pacing my living room trying to find the right metaphor. Spoiler: The pacing rarely helps.

Plus, here’s the gag: You never really “finish” talking about love. It’s layered, evolving, and culture-specific—dating in Lagos doesn’t always translate to dating in London—but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Myth 3: “All you do is tell cute stories and drop pop culture references, right?”

Reality: Good storytelling takes work—and an amazing filter for emotional clutter.

Contrary to popular belief, my laptop screen isn’t an endless Word doc of well-placed rom-com wit and ode-to-my-crush anecdotes. Instead, it’s more like a game of emotional Tetris. I’m always sorting through the real-life scenarios and case studies of connection to find pieces that click with readers’ experiences.

One particularly tricky thing? Balancing relatability with authenticity. As someone who grew up in two very different cultural spaces (shoutout to the Brooklyn chop cheese and Nigerian jollof camps), I’ve learned that stories hit deeper when layered with cultural nuance. For example: Talking about how flirting is universal—but admitting your teenage self considered a Nollywood drama tape the height of seduction—keeps the content grounded.

And sure, those light-hearted pop culture references are there, but they’re not there just to be cute. Comparing ghosting to Thanos snapping his fingers? Absolutely. But only when it illuminates why you deserve the kind of love that sticks around for an encore.

Behind-the-Scenes Truths About Writing Relationships Content

1. It’s Emotional Cardio

Writing about love is no walk in the park—it’s steady cardio for the spirit. One minute, you’re researching studies on how gratitude fosters connection. The next, you’re untangling memories of your awkward Year Abroad crush (who absolutely did not deserve that Valentine’s card you slipped under their door).

It’s rewarding but exhausting, and it forces you to stay honest—not just with your readers but also with yourself.

2. Humor Is Survival

Here’s the thing: If I didn’t learn to laugh at love’s quirks and occasional faceplants, I’d probably be balled up crying somewhere. Writing about relationships means diving into the deep end of vulnerability and absurdity. You need humor—like, “You have to close your Bumble tab just to focus on this deadline” levels of humor.

(Maybe it’s the Nigerian in me, but I believe laughter heals the heart—and makes the tough stuff easier to write.)

3. You’re Constantly Learning

Cultural shifts, new generational trends, and buzzwords like “situationship”—it’s a never-ending learning curve. As much as I rely on my life experiences as material, it’s equally about listening to others’ stories. For every “been there” moment in my archive, there’s one I’ve yet to encounter. Being a relationships writer isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about staying curious.

What You Learn from Writing About Love

In the chaos of deadlines, rewrites, and the occasional 3 a.m. “Is this trash or genius?” meltdown, one unwavering truth about my job shines through: This work—messy, funny, and gloriously human—is a profound act of connection.

Somewhere, someone is navigating their first breakup. Or wondering whether “texting back too soon” will make them look desperate. Or staring at their partner and realizing how beautiful the ordinary moments can truly be. My job isn’t just to write; it’s to remind you that this ride—your ride—is worth it.

And as with any great love story, it comes with surprises, laughs, and a good dose of self-discovery. After all, that’s what real connection is about.

So, no—I’m not hovering above the mortal plane of human errors in an all-knowing love cloud. I stumble, love awkwardly, and overshare. But I also have the privilege of turning the lessons I’ve learned into something others can hold onto.

And that, my friends, is the real relationship I’m building every single day: the one with you.