"Oh, I don't read."

A few days ago, I was chatting with a young woman who expressed an interest in being an author. We had talked about all the typical stuff: you have to write in order to be a writer; make sure you finish your project; have a lot of patience and a thick skin. She’d seemed to be solid and on track, until I asked her what the best book was that she’d read in the last year was. As an answer, she shrugged, waved her hand, and said “Oh, I don’t read.”
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*crickets*

For a moment, all I could do was blink at her. Speechless. Completely speechless. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she would want to be a writer if she didn’t even like to read.
See, any of us who love to write, loved to read first. Every author I know fell in love with the words, and the stories, and the story tellers. We each have the author(s) who captured our fancy and made us think I want to do this (Andrew Greeley and Nora Roberts, in case you’re wondering). We love to read as much – and sometimes more – than we love to write.
Is writing a cool profession? Oh, yeah. Not even going to try to lie. The other day, I was sitting outside, enjoying some late-season sun, reading a book, when a neighbor stopped by. With a smile, she called over “I thought you were working today!” I laughed along with her and decided to let it go, but truth of the matter is I was working. Reading other authors’ works is indeed part of my job. My first editor sent me several of Lucy Monroe’s books in order for me to notice how she developed her characters and resolved conflicts. My first agent had me reading category romances, to get a feel for how concise a story must be to be told in 50,000 words.
In spite of that, writing is hard work. It’s a skill, something that can be learned and honed. Starting with natural talent is hugely helpful, of course, but it doesn’t stop there. Instead, we work on how to develop characters, write fight scenes, build tension. We spend hours agonizing over our critique partners’ notes. We read dialogue out loud and study reactions in front of mirrors to literally see what we’re trying to describe. We pace, we bitch, we grind our teeth, and figuratively beat our heads against our desks trying to come up with the perfect turn of phrase. Our friends, significant others, and colleagues have learned “five more minutes…” actually means “go ahead without me, because we’re looking at hours before I can walk away from this scene.” When we’re writing, we stress over the words. When we aren’t writing, we stress over the lack of words. In between those two extremes are a plethora of other reasons to stress. Most of the authors I know have to squeeze writing time in and around a scheduled day job. It can be a heart-wrenching and all-consuming profession, and that’s before we put the finished product out there for Monday morning quarterbacking from total strangers. Why anyone would choose it when they don’t love the end result is beyond me. Except…
On this day in particular, I happened to be sitting on a deck overlooking the truly magnificent Priest Lake, in Coolin, Idaho. I have written all over the state of Alaska, from Kenai to Prudhoe Bay. I started a book in Mexico and finished it in Connecticut. Once people find out I’m a writer, they answer questions and tell me stories that they wouldn’t otherwise dream of telling a stranger. And let’s be honest; you cannot beat the writer’s commute.
Now, I still don’t understand why someone would choose to be a writer if they don’t love to read. I figure that would be akin to becoming an elementary school teacher when you don’t like kids. The idea of being an author is very different from the reality of being an author. But I will admit, I have been reminded of the allure, and that was good for me. There is nothing easy about this job. At the same time, if you love it – love reading the words, love writing the words, love it all – writing can indeed be worth it. Worth all of it.

--Pauline Trent