I’ve had this belief that authors must be somehow… more something. Not sure what. See, they have what I want. A writing career, publishing credits, fans, convention appearances, etc. I’m working toward those things, but I guess even with all that work, I thought that there must be something special about them. Some indefinable thing that all authors had in common. And I’d get it, as soon as I figured it out.
But I don’t think that anymore. Having now met a few authors, I have come to the stunning conclusion that they are, in fact, real people too. I’ve paid more attention to this whole world in the past few years, as I’ve been working on my own writing career. I read their blogs, listen to them interact with each other in person or in podcasts, see them as I’ve attended a few conventions, and am trying to look at them as professional peers, albeit colleagues higher up on the career ladder than I am currently.
And it’s this change of viewpoint that has let me realize that they’re just normal (I use the word loosely) people. They may have a more enhanced work ethic and ability to force themselves to just sit down and DO IT, but aside from that, they’re just like the people I know at the office (my real one). Some of them I really like, a lot are nice enough, but I have nothing in common with, and there are others that I tolerate.
I feel like this is a huge insight. I’m going to have to think about how this changes things for me.