Confession: I don’t ask my husband to read my books.
They aren’t the kind of books he enjoys. Loving me doesn’t require loving my sentences. I’ve learned reading isn’t the only proof of support. Take that photo above: he’s fixing my standing desk, wearing a sweatshirt that reads Warrior Strong.
What counts as support, really? And what if your loved ones don’t support what you do?
For me, it looks like this:
Even though we spend a good deal of time on Ocracoke Island (where Love and Other Incurable Ailments is set), my husband travels there with me not just as a companion, but as my research assistant. He was happy to help arrange a trip during the Fireman’s Ball so I could absorb the sounds, the excitement, the music, and the way people gather in a small community for my novel. Back at home, he remembered details I did not.
When I was writing about the shabby cottage Serenity has to fix up, his help was invaluable. He once made his living as a carpenter, so he explained what kind of rot you’d expect near the coast, what could be salvaged, and what would have to be torn out. He told me how long a bathroom renovation actually takes, not the optimistic version I may want to use for my timeline. He explained all the unexpected problems, waiting on materials, and countless details that ground fiction.
Plus, he shows up in other ways, too. He comes to readings. Lugs tables, chairs and boxes of books to author fairs without complaint. Drives me up and down the Outer Banks to visit bookstores. Helps me track expenses, receipts and mileage.
At home, he protects my time without making a big deal out of it. I have a dedicated writing room—he knocks first. He understands that when the door is closed, I’m somewhere else entirely. He cooks. He cleans. He holds my hand when I panic.
And he legitimizes what I do in ways that matter most.
When colleagues ask what his wife does, he doesn’t hedge or joke. He says, plainly, “My wife is a writer.” He carries my business card in his wallet. When we file taxes, my books aren’t treated as a hobby or indulgence. They’re part of our shared life.
If you’ve ever felt hurt because someone important to you didn’t support your work, you’re not wrong to feel that way. Writers hear so many dismissive things, often from the very people who love them.
Friends and distant family members have said some weird shit to me that left me shaking my head, such as the time I proudly showed an in-law an updated cover for my debut novel, and he dismissively said, “I don’t read circles.” Ouch!
Years ago, I asked a few fellow writers about some of the strange things they hear from family:
- “You’re writing a book? It won’t interfere with your ability to do your [real] job, right?”
- “Who’s going to read what you write?”
- “You are going to be very lonely.”
- “Well, just make sure it’s not, like, 1000 pages or no one will buy it!”
- “That’s dumb, you’ll never make a living at it.”
- “I wish I’d had a hobby like that when I was raising my kids.”
- “I could write a book, too, if I had free time.”
- “Write a blockbuster screenplay. You’ll make more money.”
I’m sure you’ve heard similar things. Most of these comments come from a belief that creative work only counts if it pays the bills, which is the worst assumption anyone can make about writing.
Find your tribe!
For that reason, writers need to turn to one another for moral support. It’s vital to find a place where the work doesn’t have to be defended, where understanding doesn’t require explanation.
I’m fortunate that the metro Detroit area boasts a rich literary community. I enjoy book and author fairs, as well as friends’ and fellow writer’s readings, book parties and literary events. I attend workshops and conferences to connect with writers at all stages of their careers. When we share tips, celebrate small victories, and commiserate over challenges, I’m reminded that I’m not alone.
I also love featuring members of the writing community at large in my What, Why, How series. Sharing their work, insights, and stories is a small way to highlight the incredible talent in the world, and to pay forward the support and inspiration that I receive.
I belong to many writing organizations from Michigan Writers to the Michigan Poetry Society, and I serve on the board of Detroit Working Writers.
Your people are the ones who recognize the sentence you’re struggling to finish, or who nod along when you describe a scene no one else would understand. They become your tribe in the best ways.
So, support, to me, is a husband who shows up in ways that matter, and a community of writers who speak the same strange, necessary language.
What about you? Where is your tribe?
Thank you for visiting! Linda K. Sienkiewicz is an author, poet and artist. Her novel, Love and Other Incurable Ailments, is about an anxious overthinker whose fixation on a stranger pulls her straight into chaos, heartbreak, and the inconvenient unraveling of her carefully constructed life.
