Amanda Hocking

I don’t understand people who want to be writers. I don’t mean people who write and want to be writers, I mean folks who say, “I would love to write a novel.” Or “I wish I could write.” The urge to write when you don’t you actually have to the urge to write.


I guess its because, to me, it seems so simple. As long as you’re literate, you can write. Not well, probably. But if you’ve had a 3rd eduation, you enough of the building blocks where you can go from there. So, once you’re past 3rd grade, if you want to write, what’s stopping you?


But more than that, I don’t know why anybody who doesn’t write would want to. I mean, I write. A lot. And I enjoy it. A whole lot. But I don’t play football because I don’t enjoy football. If I did, I would. I watch a lot of movies, play video games, and read/write a lot. I enjoy these activities so I do them. So I’m assuming, that if you enjoyed writing, you would write. And you don’t.

And it’s a hard, thankless job. Newsflash: Nobody wants to read your unpublished manuscript. A few friends and family might, but nobody else cares. It’s hard enough getting people to read published books. And let me tell you, getting published is really really hard. Writing the book is the easiest part, by far. 


There’s no fame or glory in writing.  It’s like when somebody says, “I’d like to write,” they might as well say, “I’d like to sit in a dark room for hours at a time working my heart and soul on something that (most likely) nobody else will ever see or enjoy.”


Why would you want to do it? What why would you strive that?


I do it because I love it. I like solitude, though. And unicorns and sociopaths and covers of songs from the 80’s. I’m not exactly mainstream, that way.


But if I had a choice, if someone had let me pick something I would love, it wouldn’t be this. That’s for damn sure.


It would be exercise. Or cleaning. Or surgery. Or physics. It’d be something a lot more useful, with a lot more glory. 


And I love Danny Elfman. Love him. But if I met him, I wouldn’t’ say, “Oh, I’ve always wanted to compose.” Because if I really wanted to compose, I would’ve figured out how. But I don’t have it in me. I don’t know how people make music. The idea completely confounds me. 

I don’t know. I just don’t understand why anyone would write anything. I don’t understand why I do it, and most of the time, I wish I would stop.

But I am the happiest when I’m deeply involved in writing something. So I do it. And writing for pleasure is… amazing.


But writing with the intent of getting published is absolute hell. It really is. The editing and revisions, that I can handle. That I even enjoy. But trying to decide if I’ve really said anything new or exicting. Or if I’d added anything. If anyone will get excited about my concept. 


I’m driving myself mad about this whole thing. And the more I learn, the more I… I wish I could be anything but a writer.