“Have you always wanted to be a writer?”

When I’m out and about, doing author events, this is the question I get most often. It’s understandable; we all like to see lifelong dreams realized. It inspires hope in us, that the things we’ve always longed for will somehow, some way come true in our own lives.

My answer to the question is a lot like the answer many authors give.

“No, but I have always written.”

As a kid, I don’t remember author being a huge career goal. I do remember enjoying writing assignments and poetry. I remember winning writing contests and I remember teachers encouraging me on. But I was always much more interested in splashier, noisier jobs like acting or flying a rocket through space.

At some point though, writing eclipsed the other desires and I realized that with a lot of work and a little luck, I could turn this thing I loved into a career.

Even typing that last sentence brings to mind the wide-eyed hope of those first weeks and months, determined to finish a manuscript so I could make my mark on the world, make some money, and contribute to my family’s livelihood. Three absolutely fair, noble goals.

But what also jumps out at me is how little I knew. In truth, a bit of ignorance here can be helpful. If you knew how hard the road was before you hit it, you just might refuse to take the first step. But there are a few things I wish I had known early on. First of all . . .

There is no such thing as arriving. Even if your debut novel hits bestseller lists, gets all the starred reviews, and is turned into a blockbuster movie, there will still be mountains to climb. And while writing books is a worthwhile and exciting career, it will not fill every void in your life. Nor should it. Not only will you continue to work hard, but you will need to be diligent to guard your heart and plant healthy seeds in your personal life. If you don’t, you may very well find success as an author, but the cost will be far too high. And without soul care, such a career will be unsustainable.

People will love your work. They will. Your story will touch hearts and find enthusiastic fans. It may forever affect how readers view the world around them. They’ll spend money on your words, pass your book around, and recommend it to all their friends. Readers will highlight their favorite passages and use sticky notes to mark moments they want to return to. They’ll take selfies with your book and scream about it on social media.

And while all of this is encouraging and flattering and soul soaring goodness, it’s so important to remember that this book is just one thing that you did. I don’t mean to be reductive, but I want you to hear me: your book is not you.

The minute you start to believe that it is, the double-edged sword strikes. Because this is also true:

People will hate your work. For real. They’ll post barfing gifs on Goodreads and accuse you of being all sorts of nasty things. Readers will pick apart your words and misunderstand you. They’ll point out every inconsistency, every mistake, every poor word choice. Some readers will have legitimate complaints, and some of them will simply struggle to connect with your voice. And while they attempt to process your story in the form of a review or a social media post, the one thing they can’t actually do is change who you are. That’s all on you.

So remember, on good days and on bad ones, you are not your book. Getting confused here will most certainly bite you.

The writing life is cyclical. I have a lovely group of writer friends. Some of them are bestselling authors, some of them are searching for an agent, some of them are fighting hard to finish a novel, and some are mid-list authors fighting hard to stay on top of an ever-changing industry. But here’s the kicker, some of us frequently cycle through each of these phases.

Writing is not a career that includes graduating past a certain point never to revisit it again. Every project is unique. And every career has its own ups and downs.

In our local group of ten or twelve authors, at least four are working with their second agent. Several of us have published multiple books only to find that our publisher wasn’t interested in our next project. Some of us have had our favorite editor switch jobs mid-book leaving us without a hero to champion our project inside the house. Some of us signed contracts with publishers who ended up going out of business before our books ever hit the shelves. Talk about feeling like you’re back at square one!

If you keep working, you will continue to move forward in your knowledge and your work relationships and your mastery of the writing craft. There is linear progress to be made, but this industry is very cyclical. You will repeat steps and phases and find yourself back where you were before.

This is the nature of publishing. It does not mean you are getting worse. It does not mean you don’t have what it takes. Finding yourself cycling through a down time means only this: if you keep working, keep writing, keep your chin up, you will likely find yourself cycling though a high time.

I can’t promise you a book contract is in your future, but emotionally, you will go through mountain-top experiences (completed books, good reviews, encouraging feedback) and you’ll go through valley experiences (abandoned projects, hateful reviews, useless, hurtful feedback).

You’ll also have months where you’re buried under mountains of revisions while all your friends are celebrating their successes. You’ll find yourself on the downswing while other writers are climbing high. This is how creative fields work.

You can’t let the nature of the industry determine your worth. Find writers you can cycle through publishing with. Choosing to be excited for others when it’s their turn is much more profitable than allowing jealousy to root itself in your heart. Be a cheerleader when your friends are struggling; let them lift you up when you’re tired. And embrace the idea that no one phase lasts forever.

Being brave is not the opposite of being scared. In fact, being scared is a prerequisite for being brave. If you’re not terrified of the unknown, it takes absolutely no bravery to step into it. On the other hand, putting your work out there, asking for feedback, working to make a connection? All of these can be frightening propositions—especially for writers who often thrive in the quiet caves where they write.

It takes bravery to do the writing life. I use to think that if I waited long enough, I would outgrow the things I was afraid of. But the only way to nullify fears, is to push forward despite them. That’s not fearlessness; it’s courage. Don’t let fear convince you you weren’t cut out for this job. You can be brave in the face of daunting tasks. Give it a go.

It’s your turn now! I know most of you are young in this, but is there something about the writing life that surprised you? Something you wish you knew before you got started?