We’ve all been through this before: telling a friend, co-worker, or relative that we write fiction, and then bracing ourselves for their reaction. Readers and non-writers, we love you guys, but you can be a handful sometimes!
Them: So what’s your book about?
Me: Okay, I’ve practiced this speech before…crap, I got nothing. *runs away*
Them: Yeah, but what’s your real job?
Me: [insert cricket chirp here]
Them: Me too! I’ve been writing this one story since I was twelve.
Me: You and I clearly have different understandings of what writers are.
Them: I’m a writer too, I just never have time to do it.
Me: … *sympathetic pat on the head*
Them: Hey, how’s it going! Are you still writing your little book thingies?
Me: Aw, thanks for reducing my life ambition to a petty hobby. I’m so glad you care.
Them: You write fantasy? So, like Lord of the Rings?
Me: The culture is strong with this one.
Them: Can you tell me what you think about this story I wrote when I was twelve?
Me: *gasp* All those years of studying and developing my craft have prepared me for this moment!
Them: You should get in touch with my great aunt Edith. She’s a writer, too!
Me: Oh, thanks! I’ve been looking for a way to network with other writers, but it’s such a vast, empty, cold world out there…
Them: Can I be a character in your next book?
Me: Sure! How would you like to be killed off?
Them: Can I read what you’re working on now?
Me: Aaaagh! Get back, foul creature!
Disclaimer 1: I posted a similar article on an old website, and this one guy really got ticked off about it! He went on a comment-rant about how I was disrespecting my readers. So…to avoid a repeat, this is a humorous post. It’s for the funnies, not the angries. Let’s all try to have fun!
Disclaimer 2: I have nothing against twelve-year-olds OR great aunt Edith. I’m sure great aunt Edith is a lovely person.