The Writing Life Nobody Talks About

There's a version of the writing life that looks very appealing from the outside.

The author at a sun-filled desk, hot tea steaming nearby, words flowing onto the page with quiet purpose. Book covers lined up on the wall and a copy of each published book on a shelf behind them. A calendar marked with signing events and speaking engagements and the occasional literary lunch. It's a tidy little picture. It's also only about 10% of the actual experience.

The rest of it is something else entirely. They're the parts that don't make it into the author bio or the back flap photo, but they're every bit as important.

I've been writing novels for over two decades now and have more than 25 published books, with well over a half-million copies in print. And I can tell you with complete honesty that the writing life has been one of the most rewarding, most frustrating, most humbling, most surprising experiences of my entire existence. Sometimes all four of those things in the same afternoon!

The Long Silences

What nobody tells you about publishing a book is how much waiting is involved.

You write the manuscript, which takes months, sometimes longer. Then you wait to hear back from your editor. Then you revise, and wait again. Then the book goes into production, and you wait some more. By the time the book is actually in a reader's hands, you have often been living with that story for the better part of two years. You know every scene, every character beat, every line of dialogue so well that you can barely read it anymore with any objectivity at all.

And then the book releases, and the world moves on to the next thing fairly quickly, and you are already supposed to be well into writing the next one.

There are also the longer silences. The seasons when the books stop coming because life demanded something else of you. I've written about my own long season away from fiction before, and the complicated feelings that came with it. What I'll add here is the silence doesn't mean the writer in you has gone anywhere. It's just waiting for the conditions to change. And eventually, they do.

The Doubt That Doesn't Announce Itself

If you talk to any author or watch interviews that dig a little deeper into the less public side of a writer's life, you'll hear us admit that doubt is a near-constant companion in this work.

This isn't the kind that makes for a good story at a conference panel. No, this is the quiet, persistent, everyday kind. The manuscript that felt promising three weeks ago now feels flat and unconvincing. The scene you revised four times still isn't right and you're not sure it ever will be. The book you poured yourself into sits on a shelf somewhere, and you have no way of knowing whether it reached the person who needed it or just took up space and is now collecting dust.

Unfortunately, that kind of doubt doesn't resolve cleanly. It's just part of the landscape. You learn to write alongside it rather than waiting for it to go away, because to be honest? It never really goes away. You just get better at not letting it in the driver's seat.

The Joy That's Harder to Explain

Now, just to make sure I'm not all Debbie-downer today, I'll wrap up with the good stuff, even if it's something non-writers might struggle to understand.

There is something that happens when a story finally comes together. When a scene clicks into place, when a character does something that surprises you, when you read back a paragraph and think, yes, that's exactly right! It's a bit challenging to describe that to someone who hasn't experienced it, though. I see it something like discovery and realization. Like you've managed to catch something true and hold it still long enough to put it on the page.

That feeling is why the doubt doesn't win. It's why the long silences eventually end. It's why, after the waiting and the uncertainty and the seasons when the words wouldn't come, I sat back down and started writing again.

Oh, and every now and then, I also get letters. Not often anymore, but often enough. A reader who found something in one of my stories that met them in the middle of something hard. A note from someone who says a particular character helped them understand something about themselves that no one else had articulated. Those letters remind me that the work isn't just for me. That the long hours and the quiet doubt and the waiting are part of something that matters beyond the shelf life of any single book.

The writing life is harder than it looks. But despite all the craziness? I wouldn't trade a single bit of it.

What's something about your own work or creative life that looks different from the outside than it feels on the inside? I'd love to hear what's behind the curtain for you in the comments.

Behind My Current Work-in-Progress

Every story begins with a question. Sometimes it's a simple one. 

What would happen if two people with a complicated past had to face each other again?

Other times it's more layered.

What happens when someone must choose between protecting what they love and doing what's right?

The idea for my current work-in-progress started the way many of my stories do, with a setting that has long been infused in my family history and holds a special place in my heart.

Certain places have a way of planting themselves in your imagination. The shoreline. The quiet rhythm of boats in the harbor. The weathered charm of buildings that have witnessed decades of history. That's Chincoteague Island for you. Every time I visit, my mind spins with characters appearing in my imagination as if they've always belonged there.

This particular story centers around two people whose lives have taken very different paths since their younger days. Time and circumstance have shaped them both. When their worlds collide again, old memories and misunderstandings surface right along with them.

What fascinates me most about stories like this is the emotional journey beneath the surface plot. Characters rarely struggle with just the obvious problem. Beneath every disagreement or difficult decision lies something deeper. Usually, you'll find fear, regret, pride, or the quiet longing to be understood.

Those hidden layers are where the real story lives.

Researching the Hidden Layers

Research plays its part in the process, too. Once the initial idea takes hold, I inevitably fall down a few rabbit trails. I've spent more than one afternoon chasing historical details, regional traditions, or even some of those bits of local lore that have potential to add texture to a scene. Everybody loves local lore, right?

Sometimes those discoveries lead to entire moments in the story I hadn't planned. Other times they simply deepen my understanding of the world the characters inhabit.

Faith also weaves quietly throughout the story as part of how the characters wrestle with their choices. Questions of forgiveness, trust, purpose, direction, and second chances often appear in my novels because many of us face those questions in real life. When I don't have someone right in front of me to listen, stories give me a safe place to explore those struggles.

As this manuscript continues to take shape, I'm still learning things about the characters myself. They surprise me sometimes, taking a conversation in a direction I hadn't expected or revealing a piece of their past that suddenly makes everything else make sense.

That's one of my favorite parts of writing. You begin with an outline and an idea, but somewhere along the way the story starts breathing on its own. And when that happens, you know you're on the right track.

When you read a novel, do you ever wonder what first sparked the story for the author? What part of the storytelling process interests you most: characters, setting, research, or the twists along the way? Tell me what it is and why in the comments.