This is rant. You have been warned.
So I was talking to someone today, and after I told them what I do (writing) their reaction was as follows:
That must be nice not to have a real job. At the end of the day, I am just exhausted. Maybe I should be a writer. After all, how hard can it be to sit at a computer telling stories all day.
I believe I showed great restraint, because that person is still alive.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you, WRITING IS HARD WORK!!!
Sitting for hours at a time, exercising the most important muscle - the brain- is freaking exhausting. I am in a cycle where I'm writing, revising, writing, revising, making one clean chapter per day. After about 6 hours, I can't even remember my name. Usually, I think it's Scarlet, my character.
I have panic attacks when I realize the gravity of how big the story is that I am telling. How many little emotional nuances need to be shown, rather than told. Pacing, formatting, structure, voicing, character depth. I personally think the fact that we can create worlds that draw people in is a miracle in itself.
We work our butts off, try to keep our houses from burning down around our ears, and make less per hour of labor than a McJob. Without the benefit of discounts on Big Macs.
So here's to you, fellow writers. I appreciate you. When I am sick of being in my own head, I appreciate the public service you perform by letting me into yours for a little while.
The next time someone questions the cleanliness of my household, because "Hey, I'm a stay at home writer, I should have time," I cannot guarantee that person will survive when they are written into my book.