Ah, the Glamour of Being a Professional Writer

As I sit here 15 deep in Word documents, Excel worksheets, PDF proposals, and about six open books, I'm reminded of that smile people get when they ask what I do for a living.

"A writer? Wow! That must be very neat!"

Uh... actually, it's rather dirty. Besides the fact that print tends to smudge all over perspiring palms as deadlines approach and the fact that my work often involves taking computers apart, putting them back together, or nuking them just to see what happens, add more dirt. Then there's the car repair book I decided to write because I'm a) REALLY tired of powderpuff mechanics books and b) many of the better selling ones in print haven't been updated since cars got much more computerized, and we add lots more dirt to my life.

Add to that the fact that there's an unwritten rule that while publishers publish books to make money, the writer is only supposed to be there to do the work "just for the sheer joy and ethereal wonder of it all".

I love what I do, but when you work 18 hours a day 7 days a week, it's likely to be considered work. Most books today - at least, the kind I write - have to be produced in anywhere from 4 to 12 weeks. Several times, I've had to write 800 page wonders in less than 8 weeks. Imagine writing 100 pages a week every week on material that requires you to pay close attention to detail. And because of the uh.. uncertain manner of payment, you tend to have to juggle multiple works at once. There are plenty of weeks I crank out 300-500 pages per.

So every time an office manager or a receptionist gets starry-eyed about my glamorous life, I'm thinking, "Yes, but you get paid this week AND go home at five." I wouldn't trade places but.. man....