Pity the Poor Writer

Some years ago, the novelist Carolyn Thorman told me a story:

A novelist and a brain surgeon were out golfing. The brain surgeon said, “You know, George, I think I’ll take off the summer and write a novel.” “Great idea, Henry,” the novelist said. “I think I’ll take off the summer and do brain surgery.”

The point, of course, is that, contrary to conventional wisdom, technique and hard-won skill are as essential to writing fiction as they are to brain surgery and take just as long to perfect. Yet so many readers seem to believe that we authors have a lazy and enviable life. But I’m here to tell you, as the old song goes, that it just ain’t so.

When I’m working at full steam, fourteen-hour days are not unusual. Yet, on average, each of my published novels took me fifteen years to write. I go through multiple drafts, trying to optimize the wording, organization, tone, and presentation.

Then comes promotion. That means endless presentations, readings, and book signings. My sense is that most writers are introverts—I certainly am—and constantly being a hale-fellow-well-met is hard work.

I’m luckier than most. Through a quirk of personality, I become an extrovert when you put me on a stage with a microphone. As much as I dread speaking in public and as hard as I work to prepare, some magic transforms me when the spotlight goes on. A different Tom Glenn emerges. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It means that it works.

All that said, writing is both the most difficult and most fulfilling work I’ve done. As I noted earlier, I write because I have to. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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