Having been a writer in some capacity for most of my life, I have found that many people don’t know much about what we do or who we are. This is completely understandable. After all, most readers see the finished product, not the process, and the author themselves is diminished in their work until they seem not to exist at all.

But these misconceptions prevent others from picking up a pen and trying it for themselves; they get disheartened by the narratives they’ve unconsciously absorbed about who a writer is. The misconceptions also lead to some oblivious questions.

Well, I’m here to dispel those notions and give you an inside look at what writing is really about. While this is my personal opinion and experience, I imagine many of these points apply to other writers, too. Let’s take a look.

“Writers have special skills and abilities that others don’t possess.”

I like to call this the Writer Mystique: the idea that writers are some unique breed of humans who have god-given talents. It’s a misperception common to those who are not in the trenches, seeing the unfinished products of others or wincing at their own half-baked WIPs. I see it especially in those who mostly read traditionally published work and so have not experienced the wild variations in quality that exist in the self-published world.

And, of course, writers nurture this ideology in order to feel special and get praise. Many turn into gatekeepers by focusing on their “natural talents” and keeping their process vague so that others are amazed by them.

But these writers are wrong. There is nothing supernatural about writing. People who have been writing a long time may seem divinely inspired, but that’s because you’re seeing decades of work distilled into each product, which can obscure the realities of how they learned to write.

Fast writers are fast because they spent years developing their pattern recognition, forming plots, and putting words together. It has nothing to do with being “naturally” a fast writer. Intricate writers have honed their skills to bring disparate threads together and remember details. Mystery writers have a good theory of mind that lets them know what not to reveal.

All of these were taught and developed, meaning that anyone can learn how to do this if they are dedicated enough. Nothing magical about it.

“Writers start with fully-formed ideas that they only have to transfer onto the page.”

My books all start with two points: a beginning and a climax. How I get from Point A to Point B, and then from Point B to the resolution, is usually a mystery to me when I open my document. My first outline inevitably morphs as I take detours, which enhance the narrative’s depths. I think of it much like a road trip, where I spontaneously stop for a break or pursue a side quest.

This “fully sprung from Zeus’s head” mentality leads to one of the most common fears of a newbie writer, where they are convinced that others will plagiarize something they haven’t even written if they dare to mention their story idea or plot.

But that’s ridiculous for the same reason I never know where my story will take me. Ideas are a dime a dozen; I could pump out oodles of them in an hour. It’s the journey and execution that matters, and this can only be experienced through hard work.

Most of us are starting with a simple premise that unfolds organically as we keep going. In many cases, it morphs into something different, and we have to go back and trim things that might not be as important as we thought.

“Most writers do this full-time and do not have experience in other fields.”

I ran into this premise ages ago when I was still using Twitter (thankfully I have quit that vice). I was sharing my opinion on international relations, in which I have a Master’s degree, and someone scornfully said “I’m not taking a gay fantasy writer’s opinion on geopolitical conflict.”

The assumption here was that I had to share my other professional experience on my Twitter or I was “just” a gay fantasy writer. But why would I cram all that into my bio? My social media is a catalogue of my life, but it is also a way to advertise my work. Since I’m not selling international relations courses, that part of my career is irrelevant.

Writing simply isn’t as lucrative as it used to be, so most of us have other jobs. If a writer does make this their full-time career, they likely took years to get to that point. As such, they often have other job experience that will influence their work – and that they can share informed opinions on when relevant.

“Self-published writers are always worse than traditionally published writers.”

I do get this misconception. There are millions of books out there written by people who valued instant gratification more than producing a polished manuscript that readers would enjoy. But this is not true of every self-published author, particularly older ones that have been doing this for years before publishing.

Traditional publishing is very picky about what they will accept. When I was querying, I got many responses from agents who said they loved my book, Poesy, but weren’t sure whether they could sell it to a publisher because it does not meet tradpub genre conventions. The voice is different than the current trends in fantasy, it has a unique magic system, and it doesn’t feature the typical themes seen in what Booktok loves: flashy sword-and-sorcery without deeper geopolitical implications.

My first five books would never be published by a tradpub firm for a pretty simple reason: they are too short. 9 Years Yearning clocks in at under 34,000 words, which would send a tradpub firm into anaphylaxis. If an agent even looked at it after seeing the word count, they’d demand I lengthen it into standard genre conventions: no less than 90,000 words.

But that is actually a strength in selfpub because it means I can publish it for cheaper, and new readers know they don’t have to spend much time with a book they might not like. That lower barrier to entry is working well for me: I’ve sold well over the standard statistic of 250 lifetime sales for a self-published ebook.

Yes, there are a ton of shitty self-pub books out there. But there’s also a lot of great ones that you might find amazing if you gave them a chance.

“Slow writers are lazy or bad.”

When someone hears that a writer took five years to write a book, they’re not usually impressed: they’re wondering why someone would peck at a book for so long. Is the writer dispassionate, perhaps clueless? Stupid, even?

I have another post on this topic, so I will just say this: slow writers are not lazy and bad. They may have other obligations that make it hard to find time to write, or they have a lot of anxiety and thus agonize over everything during the drafting process (a no-no I talk about a lot on here).

Speed does not have anything to do with quality. In fact, writing too fast can mean you put out utter slop. You probably experienced the same thing when you were in school and had to bullshit an essay because you procrastinated. Whatever you wrote was much worse than you could have achieved if you had more time.

Which, by the way, if you’re still in school and said schooling will not get you a fancy letter after your name, you are probably too inexperienced to be publishing. So please hold off on your publishing dreams until you are more seasoned. I’m not saying you’ll never get there, but that you will receive far greater rewards if you practice more.

“Writers do it for the money.”

What money? Show it to me. Tell me right now where to get this mythical money you’re talking about.

There is this weird idea that if you publish a book, you immediately start drowning in cash. You attract an audience without marketing; people magically know about you, despite the fact that there are millions upon millions of titles on Amazon with more reviews, more ads, more marketing star power.

Writing is not lucrative anymore, and Artificial Intelligence is making it even worse. Publishers are using AI to pump out a ton of subpar shitty books that half-asleep readers lap up because they want to turn off their brain. People who imagine that writing is very lucrative are also pumping out a ton of subpar shitty books, diluting the pool for those of us who enjoy the process.

So no, most writers do not do it for the money. We’re lucky to break even or have a bit of coffee cash.

Some writers work extremely hard on their marketing and become very successful, but most of us don’t unless we had all that capital to burn in the first place. Those writers who are very successful likely paid a marketing firm to help them, or spent hundreds of hours learning how to do it themselves. That time is money they spent not doing something with an immediate return on investment that could pay the bills.

“Marketing your book is simple if you just follow the standard advice.”

Sure, it probably is. But it’s also really expensive.

I often get comments encouraging me to sell my books at conventions, or to commission an audiobook, or to take out a billboard (??). Well, sorry to tell you, but that all costs a lot of cash.

Remember the whole thing about writers not making a lot of money? That’s ya girl.

Firstly, I don’t have paperbacks yet for the simple reason that I would need to commission an entirely new cover with a spine, back cover, blurb, all that. I would need to spend several hours formatting my book correctly for paperback, which is much more labor-intensive than doing an ebook.

A really, really good professional-level paperback cover costs $500 at minimum, meaning that for 10 books, I would be out $5,000. I only want the best for my paperbacks, so I’ll keep saving up.

I intend to publish the whole Eirenic Verses series as ebooks first, then go back and create paperbacks with different covers and additional content (bonus stories, character studies, etc). This added content would be a little treat that encourages people to choose the more expensive version. After all, why should I charge more for something without offering more, too?

Then there is how much an audiobook will set you back if you’re not going to cheap out and let an AI voice do it for you. Voice actors cost a pretty penny. Some people spend $5,000 or more on an audiobook.

And then there is how much it costs to sell at a convention. If you are self-published, you have to buy every single book you intend to sell (though at a publisher’s discount). Then you have to pay for a table at the convention. Then you have to pay for all the acroutements that make you look professional: a printed table skirt, a large poster, business cards, bookmarks, a business account for sales (which requires an ITIN and a business license), a Stripe reader, and so on, and so on, and so on.

These expenses add up fast. That’s not to mention the difficulties of being “on” all day, talking to strangers, encouraging them to buy, reminding them to leave a review. And, if you are working a Friday convention or a weekend convention that’s far away from your house, you might have to take off work from your day job to be there.

I’m not too proud to admit that right now, I am already thousands of dollars in the red just with ebooks and digital ads. Quite frankly, writing doesn’t pay enough to afford all those things at the moment. I am still saving up for these expenses and don’t intend to release paperbacks until 2029 at least, when the entire series is out on digital.

Selling in person is a vanity thing for many small indie authors: the feeling of getting to sign your name and have people know you and ask questions and fawn over you. I’m sure that feels special, like you’re a mini-celebrity.

But I don’t care about that. I care about writing good books and hoping that maybe they get into the right hands someday. Writing isn’t about my ego and never has been. Publishing, to me, is about the joy of producing something I’m proud of and that will give someone else a few hours of reprieve from their life.

And I don’t want to talk to strangers all day. Sounds awful.

Trust me, I have thought about all those marketing ideas already. I know they may be helpful eventually, but they aren’t right now because I simply cannot afford all the upfront expenses.

That is perfectly okay with me at this moment. Writing is something I intend to do for life, and books don’t expire. There’s time for that later, when I have more savings.

“Writers love to talk about their books all the time.”

This is a lighter, and perhaps more personal, one. Maybe there are writers out there who absolutely love to talk about their books all the time to everyone who will listen to them.

I’m happy to hear about your feelings and reactions when you’re finished reading one of my books because that’s about your experience. I’d love to hear what you thought, what resonated with you, what it reminded you of.

And if you want to talk about writing in general, then I’m absolutely here for that conversation. I will talk your ears off about plot, and characterization, and worldbuilding, and how the education system doesn’t provide a strong basis in how to write well.

I want to hear about you. I don’t want to talk about me. I don’t want to workshop my published book with you because it’s already published and – sorry to be harsh – but your advice comes from a layperson who may not know what they’re talking about. That process is done with professional beta readers.

If I am in the middle of writing a book, I don’t talk about it much with anyone. That is my private time, when I need solitude to process. When it is mostly done, then I will share it with a select circle. Everyone else gets it when the ARC campaign starts up and not a minute before.

Why? Because that’s too much talking and not enough doing. The more I talk about a story, the more I trick my brain into thinking I’ve done more than I have, and then I get demoralized.

Asking me to share with you hurts my process. I do not let anything hurt my process. That is why I have published multiple books.

And please, please, please, for the love of god, do not randomly ask me “what’s the plot of your book” when I’m just being a normal everyday person out in public. I will bluescreen and display error codes previously unknown to humans.

So there you have it. We writers are just like another artist in today’s hellscape. We’re not swimming in cash, we’re not devoting every minute to our work, and we likely have other career experiences that pay the bills. And we probably don’t want your unsolicited advice on how to market.

I hope this didn’t scare you off from befriending us. I promise we’re not untouchable assholes, but we’re also not the literary demigods some people think. We’re normal people who have devoted ourselves to something rare and special, but that doesn’t make us particularly unique.