“Hey, I’m writing a novel!”

“Really? Why?”

Sound familiar? Maybe they don’t say it out loud, but you can see it in their eyes–a look of bemusement, skepticism, or worst of all, flat-out pity. Why, oh why, indeed?

It’s a fair question. I suppose everyone has their own answer. Some will tell you that they have to write, that they’re compelled to write, that they couldn’t imagine life without writing!

I wish I could say the same. It seems like such a deep response–so artistic, so profound. But if it was true, why did I wait half my life to write my first novel? Clearly I was alive before, wasn’t I? And if not, who’s been drinking all my juice?

No, I’ve always been more of a reader. Like most readers, I always thought I could write a book if I really wanted, but I never actually bothered. It seemed like a lot of work (spoiler alert: it is!).

So why start now? For one thing, I’ve been reading a lot more lately. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the rise of e-books and their sheer convenience. Maybe it’s a deep-seated need to fill my mind with something intellectually stimulating. Maybe there’s just nothing good on television anymore.

Whatever the reason, I’ve been reading more.  I wish I could say it was all great literature, but truth be told, most of it is pop fiction. You know, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Game of Thrones, Hunger Games–popular books like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed them all, sometimes immensely, but as I read these books, part of me can’t help but think, “I could do that!” Do you know the feeling?

I could do that!

I wonder how many careers started with these four words? Then again, it probably ranks just behind “Watch this!” for famous last words.