All of us who write get a series of questions, most of which are asked out of curiosity, a few out of envy, and even fewer to debase us.
- How long does it take to write a book?
- What’s your “real” job?
- How long do you write every day?
- How much money do you make?
- Are you a best-selling author?
- I’ve never heard of you. You must not be very good.
The list goes on and on, like the road leading out of the Shire. Let’s dig into these and see if I can clarify my answers:
- How long does it take to write a book? As long as it takes. Use “How long is a piece of string?” to give the questioner a sense of just how silly this question seems to those of us who write all the time
- What’s your “real” job? Writing is my real job. Between my family, writing my allotted number of pages, interacting with readers, Skyping with book clubs, and promoting my materials through social media, it’s a “real” job. It’s even what I list on my IRS returns where the forms ask for occupation. I answer, “Author.”
- How long do you write every day? I put in a good four or five hours each day in creating new material and editing older material. New material begins with a blank screen. On a terrific day, I fill up that screen and many more with words. On the next day, I look at those words and see how many I can keep. Sometimes it’s most of the new work; other times most is designated “what the heck was I thinking?” and moved to the parking lot, a graveyard for what seemed good ideas at the time.
- How much money do you make? Best answered politely with “I never discuss money,” when you really want to say, “How often do you have sex?” Same degree of “none of your damned business” questioning. Some people think it’s fine to be snoops. They usually end up dead in a subsequent novel.
- Are you a best-selling author? If I was, you’d know it.
- I’ve never heard of you. You must not be very good. Well, that is a matter of opinion. My readers think I’m pretty good. As I add more with each book, I rise in the ranks of authors. So, if you haven’t heard of me, shame on you. You’re not paying attention.
It’s hard sometimes to paste that smile on your face, but you have to do it. These people are future readers, most likely. They may not remember what you write but they will remember that you dissed them. Don’t diss them. Honor the comment with a polite one of your own. No matter that we don’t like being in public, the first time that pesky novel hits print, you are now a public figure. Enjoy it.