“So what do you do?”
The dreaded question. Do I talk about the day job, or do I talk about the writing?
A week ago I attended a school reunion. In the early 90s I lived in Rome for three years1, attending an international school on the city’s outskirts. I hadn’t kept in touch with my classmates and so hadn’t seen any of them for thirty years.
We met up in London and it was a magical experience2. I knew these people when we were all 11 years old, so my brain had to do some serious interpolation to connect that visual memory to the 40-somethings I was now meeting. It felt like a kind of temporal slip; a rapid acceleration from then to now. A time hop.3
Inevitably, there was a lot of catching up to do. Everyone wanted to know what everyone had spent those three decades doing, and where we were now in our lives.
“So what do you do?”
It’s a simple, innocent question, but I found myself agonising over my response. I hadn’t mentally prepared for this moment. The traditional response is to talk about your job, but that always sits strangely with me. I’m happy where I work, I have lovely colleagues and I am proud of the work we do4, but a job is a way for me to fund the rest of my life: it’s not the point of my life. I’m not performing life-saving surgery on children, or brokering world peace.5
What I am is a writer. I have been since 2015, when I started writing consistently and seriously. That’s how I identify myself internally. I write fiction every single week and have done for over eight years. I’ve sent out a non-fiction newsletter every week since 2021. This newsletter list just passed 2,000 subscribers (woo).
“So what do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a digital marketing manager.” Glazed eyes. “But I only work with cool arty clients.” Vague indications of interest. “I also write.” Perks up. What do you write? “Science fiction and fantasy.” Losing interest again.
I felt like I had everything a bit backwards at that reunion, in terms of talking about who I was and what I do. Here’s what I wish I’d said:
“So what do you do?”
“I’m a writer. I have a big newsletter that I send out every week where I publish my fiction and help other writers be more productive. I also do digital marketing stuff with arts organisations which helps to support the writing.”
There are many reasons for my hesitation, some personal, some cultural. In the UK, the “what do you do?” question is traditionally a euphemism for “what is your job?” I’m not a traditionally published author, which still gives me pause - despite my advice to others over the years, a part of me still thinks that being an indie author somehow ‘doesn’t count’. While this newsletter has been successful beyond what I had imagined two years ago, it’s nowhere near providing practical ‘income’.
And, lastly, there’s something that’s been ingrained in me from a young age that makes me feel that pursuing art is somehow frivolous, or indulgent. That goes way back to the bad career advice I received as a teenager, when the default response to “I want to be a novelist” was “oh, you can’t do that. Try journalism.”
The overwhelming impression I got as a kid was that being a writer, or a filmmaker, or any kind of artist, was basically impossible and not allowed. I didn’t really get past that until my 30s, when I completed my first novel, and haven’t looked back since. Evidently I’m still having to relearn how to see myself.
There’s a secondary issue, which is knowing how to succinctly intro Tales from the Triverse when people ask what the story is about. Figuring out that pitch is a topic for another day.
shared tips on growing a newsletter over the weekend which are relevant to this discussion:In particular, this point:
When a stranger asks me what I do, I tell them about
. When a friend asks what’s new, I tell them what’s new at Situation Normal. When someone tells me they’re sick of social media, I tell them about Substack, and then tell them about Situation Normal.Pro tip: It doesn’t matter if you’re shy, or an introvert. Talking about a thing you do is a skill you can learn and improve with practice.
💯It’s clearly a skill i need to work on.
How about you? Do you describe yourself as a writer to people you meet? Do you find it easy to do? Where does your writing slot into your wider life?
Coincidentally, my 2000th subscriber was
, who writes . Having recently rekindled my memories of Rome, it’s been fun diving into her newsletter.Meanwhile, the new edition of No Adults Allowed is available on Amazon. The new blurb is considerably better than the old one, I think:
The adults are all dead. Maybe that’s a good thing?
Harry and Eva’s team of child explorers have a mission: to travel into the unknown, beyond the safety of their village, in search of answers.
Where did all the grown-ups go?
Why does the world not make any sense?
And what exactly is pursuing them?
Lord of the Flies meets Apocalypse Now, reworked for the 21st century.
If you’re enjoying Tales from the Triverse and would like to check out some of my other work, No Adults Allowed is the one to get:
That’s all for today. I’ll see you on Friday for more Triverse.
Oh, before we go, fancy some free ebooks? Check out these giveaways, which I’m currently taking part in:
This was an amazing opportunity that I entirely didn’t appreciate at the time. I’m pretty sure it fundamentally influenced my outlook on politics, culture and society.
Turns out it was also the Pride weekend, which somehow we’d all overlooked. Made the day even more special, though also made traversing London unexpectedly tricky. At one point I thought I was going to have to hop the fence and dive past the parade.
It’s startling how people’s mannerisms and methods of expression don’t change much in thirty years. I was expecting people to be unrecognisable, but that wasn’t the case. I found this unexpected and fascinating, from a character development angle. 🤔
I work at One Further, a digital agency that works specifically with arts and cultural organisations. We help museums, galleries, heritage and performing arts venues do digital stuff more effectively. I get to work with some very exciting organisations.
This is why I never really got on in the tech startup world, where it is expected that you make the job your entire life and religion.
Howdy. I relate to this and write about this all the time and try to motivate my writing group members to think "I am a writer". I have four published novels and still struggle (which may not help ya here). What might is that my impression of you from afar is "gosh he's killing it on Substack. I'll never be as successful as him." It's all a bit mad,eh?
Very understandable and relatable. I have written nonstop since I was a little kid; there's something about being able to put words together that came more naturally for me than some, and I have never, ever taken my toe out of the writing water.
Doing it as an identity is weird, though. After 20+ years identifying as a business owner, I think it's time to identify primarily as a writer.
Side note- congrats on 2000! That's really cool.