I’m not saying people constantly patronize writers, I’m just saying that if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me how I’m going to make any money writing books, I’d be making a lot of money writing books. (New plan: There is now a one-dollar fee for interrogating me about my life choices.)

But in all seriousness, when talking to writers, please avoid saying any of these 6 things.

1. What about your real job?

Believe it or not, I know this is a stupid choice for a career path. I know it’s never going to make me any money. So yes, I do have vague plans to stick myself in an office for forty hours a week so I can finance such luxuries as food and health insurance. Thanks for asking. But that job isn’t going to be the reason I wake up in the morning. It’s just going to be how I survive to experience the real reasons I get out of bed.

Which, you know, pretty much means I’ll fit right in within the American workforce.

2. How’s that little writing thing going?

First, a disclaimer: please do ask about my writing. (I mean, be prepared to nod politely for a couple of hours while I ramble about the mechanics of the magical mafia, but ask anyway!)

But if you refer to my life’s work as “that little writing thing,” or anything equally demeaning, I will find a way to subtly erode the key elements of your identity right back.

I write to express myself, to reflect on my past, to understand my fears, to condemn myself and revive myself and forgive myself, and none of that is little. If you don’t write, you don’t understand, and that’s okay. But don’t pretend to understand.

3. I’ve always planned to write a book someday, when I have more time.

You and me both, buddy. Also when I have more sanity and more good ideas.

The difference between me and you is that I have none of those things, and I’m doing it anyway, right now. So don’t lump me in with you.

4. What’s your book about?

To be fair, this is a question I’m going to have to answer someday. It’s actually a pretty important part of the job. So it’s a justifiable thing to ask.

Still, I’m not sure any writer likes answering this question. It’s like we're fighting our way through an uncharted jungle, bloody and sweaty, hacking at vines and dodging venomous snakes, only to be asked what shape the jungle is when viewed from above. Well, I can’t say. I’m in the middle of it, getting my ass kicked. I’ll let you know when I make it out and have a chance to look at the bigger picture. Right now, I’ve got an angry pack of gorillas to wrangle.

5. When is your book going to be finished?

I appreciate the enthusiasm (unless this was said with exasperation, in which case I do not appreciate it one bit), but the answer is most likely never. In lieu of that, definitely not tomorrow. And not next week, either. I don’t have any more specific details at this time. And for the record, I will not have those details in the near future either (just like how I will not have a completed book in the near future).

6. I have an idea for a book! What do you think?

Please don’t make me smile encouragingly while you tell me about a book idea you had in a dream once. If you actually intend to write the book, or have started writing it already, I’m somewhat more interested, but at the same time, this question makes me very nervous. What if your idea is lightly plagiarized from The Hunger Games? What if it makes no sense and I’m expected to have questions prepared at the end of your explanation? What if it’s the same as my idea?

And more importantly, why would you care about my opinion? Go ask an actual expert. IDK, tweet J.K. Rowling or something. (Don’t do that. That poor woman has to hear enough book ideas, half-baked or otherwise, already.)

What I mean to say is, write what you want, even if it’s a Hunger Games ripoff or makes absolutely no sense. People have gotten rich doing both. (But if you write the same thing I’m writing, I’m going to have to kill you.)

At the end of the day, remember that writers are just people doing what they love. Treat them accordingly.