I have always been in love with the written word.

It is the reason why I’ve been writing my own novels since the age of fifteen and why I decided to major in English when I first went to college. Falling in love with the stories authors tell has only inspired me to create my own worlds to evoke that same emotion from my audience. Everyone has been moved by a piece of storytelling in their lifetime, and it is natural to be curious in how the final product came to be.

But I can tell you from personal experience that one of the biggest pet peeves of an author is being pressured to reveal their ideas before they have fully formed. I’ve encountered this situation numerous times before, but as it happened again recently, that same pent-up frustration washed over me, leaving me discouraged.

To someone who doesn’t write, the planning process seems to be a simple step-by-step process: create the characters, form the plot, and finish the story off with a thrilling ending. But as a writer, I can tell you that the writing process is never that simple. It involves days—if not months—of thinking about the story. It involves several hours spent in isolation daydreaming of possible scenarios and plotting out an outline. It involves hours of research that seems ridiculous to the outside perspective.

Because this story concept is so fleshed out in our minds, it is difficult to pitch in a single sentence. When people ask me what I’m writing, all I have to sell this idea is a quick summary that I’ve devised in a second—and when I see their confusion, it makes my heart sink. It doesn’t matter that they were well-intentioned; their confusion and incredulous look is enough to make me fall out of love with my project.

That is why I hesitate to share what my current writing projects are with people who don’t write themselves. When you don’t share that same creative mindset, it is nearly impossible to understand how the final product is done.

This also applies to finishing the first draft. People tend to forget that what is put on the shelves contains nothing from the first draft. Authors are forced to rewrite entire chapters and throw out major plot points to make their stories the best they can possibly be. Recently, I finished a first draft of a novel I’ve been working on for a year, and one of my former high school teachers realized that I’d actually finished a book. To her, this was a big deal, and she wanted to share a copy with my former English teacher.

I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t think I’ve ever felt my stomach drop so quickly. And I’ve ridden the Tower of Terror at Disney. I’m not stating this lightly.

Do you think people would be interested in the Mona Lisa if it was just a sketch without the colors filled in? Do you think people would read “Harry Potter” if it was pitched as “a story about a boy who finds out he is a wizard”? They probably wouldn’t be as interested. The world wants to see the best versions of everything that is put out there.

That is why I’m uncomfortable sharing my writing when I have yet to start writing it or I have yet to revise it. I know I can do better, and I intend to. I intend to rewrite my novel in its entirety, and I intend to spend months perfecting it until I am pleased with the result.

If I ever get published, I will be thrilled at the idea of sharing a copy of my novel with my former English teacher. But for now, I am perfecting the art of the practice, and it is such a personal operation that I am content with being the only one who is exposed to my ideas.

As a writer to her audience, please don’t pressure me to explain the planning process. Don’t force me to let you read what I write. It is a mystery to me too.