Dianne C. Braley's Blog

A Life Once Lived: The Heroin Addict’s Wife
by Dianne C. Braley | Nov 7, 2025 | Blog | 0 comments


There are certain chapters of our lives we’d rather forget—but sometimes, they become the ones that shape us the most.

My upcoming poetry collection, The Heroin Addict’s Wife, is one of those chapters. These poems were born during one of the darkest, most painful periods of my life—my first marriage. I found the original collection tucked away recently, what feels like a lifetime ago, and reading through it transported me right back. The words are raw and vulnerable, and though I’ve healed so much since then, they still ache to revisit.

Over the years, I’ve added a few new pieces—poems written from a place of reflection rather than survival. The perspective is different now. I’ve lived, healed, and grown. I can finally share this story with both strength and compassion. This book is not just about addiction—it’s about love, loss, codependency, hope, and the haunting beauty of resilience.

I’m so grateful for my incredibly supportive husband, who understands that sometimes the most powerful art is born from our darkest moments. Check out the cover set as the featured image of this post. I’m unsure if I’m in love, but it certainly is artistic and thought-provoking.

A Few Updates and Thank Yous
I also want to take a moment to thank The Apollo Sunrise Center for hosting so many of us local authors at Voices of the Valley. It was a wonderful event, and I truly enjoyed meeting the talented authors and kind readers who came by.

And don’t forget — I’ll be at Literary Cape Ann at Brackett’s Oceanview Restaurant in Rockport this December from noon to 3 p.m. Book Fair Flyer 2025 pdf. This will be my third year attending, and it’s always such a beautiful, festive event. (See flyer below!)

What’s Next
As I mentioned in my last newsletter, I’m currently collaborating with a production company — and my debut novel The Silence in the Sound is taking its very first steps toward possibly becoming a film someday. It’s an exciting milestone, even though it’s only the beginning of what’s sure to be a long process. Still, it feels amazing to be recognized and sought out for my work.

Meanwhile, The Summer Before continues to receive wonderful reviews, and my third novel, Drive City, is still in the queue. I can’t wait to get it into your hands and hear what you think! I’ll soon be looking for a street team of advanced readers, so if that sounds like something you’d love to be part of, stay tuned.

Lastly, I’m stepping into new territory with my fourth book, a narrative nonfiction project based on a case that has haunted so many of us from where I grew up. It’s a story close to home and heart — one I’m both nervous and honored to tell.

There are a few more things coming down the pike (I’m tired but blessed)… and you might even see my face or hear my voice soon (sorry, lol). More on that later.

Next blog, we’ll be in the thick of the holidays — can you believe it? Until then, thank you, as always, for being part of this journey.

If you haven’t yet, I’d love for you to subscribe to my newsletter/blog. Your support truly means the world.

I love shining a light on authors who blend emotion and artistry so seamlessly that their stories feel like songs you can’t stop replaying. Sarah Watts does exactly that with The Girl in the Song — a heartfelt, beautifully written page-turner about first love, loss, and the haunting echoes of the past.

🎶 The Girl in the Song — A Heartfelt Story About Love, Secrets, and Second Chances
Some books hum with nostalgia and ache with truth, wrapping you up in melody and memory. The Girl in the Song by Sarah Watts is one of those rare reads — tender, emotional, and impossible to put down.

💔 The Story
Ed and Evie shared a teenage romance full of promise — until Evie suddenly disappeared.
Decades later, Ed is still haunted by her memory, now immortalized in his hit song Used to Be. The track’s unexpected rise to fame, fueled by a viral TikTok trend and a Netflix documentary, reignites his search for #thegirlinthesong — and the past he’s never been able to escape.

What follows is a poignant and gripping exploration of what happens when first love and fame collide, and whether it’s ever possible to truly move on.

📖 What Makes It Shine
Told in dual timelines and through multiple points of view, this story effortlessly moves between the innocence of youth and the weight of adulthood. Sarah Watts brings us a cast of deeply relatable characters — people who make mistakes, carry regrets, and still reach for redemption.

The book delves into teenage pregnancy, friendship, addiction, family, social media, love, and loss, yet somehow maintains a feel-good energy throughout. Watts balances heartbreak and hope with grace, crafting a story that feels raw yet comforting — like an old song that still makes you smile.

🎵 Final Thoughts
If you loved Daisy Jones & the Six or The Mix Tape, you’ll fall for The Girl in the Song. It’s a story about the ones we never forget, the choices that define us, and the music that keeps their memory alive.

👉 Add this heartfelt page-turner to your reading list today — and discover why everyone’s talking about #thegirlinthesong.


About the Author
Sarah Watts has always been obsessed with music — it’s rare to find her without her headphones in. The daughter of a jazz drummer, she grew up surrounded by rhythm and melody, which naturally shaped her storytelling voice. Combining her lifelong love of music and writing, she created her stunning debut novel, The Girl in the Song.

Sarah lives in West London with her husband and two grown sons, and she’ll soon welcome two rescue kittens who are sure to steal the show on her social media. When she’s not writing her own contemporary fiction, she’s likely curled up with a good book — most often women’s fiction or a gripping psychological thriller.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ A Real “Just One More Chapter” Read
“This was a real ‘just one more chapter’ book — I couldn’t put it down! The pacing was spot on, the characters full of life, and the ending absolutely perfect. A touching, beautifully written novel that stays with you long after the last page.”

Waiting, Writing, Remembering
by Dianne C. Braley | Sep 7, 2025 | Blog, Book


The publishing process can feel like a roller coaster. For months, if not years, it’s wait, wait, wait… and then suddenly it’s all systems go. I’m in that in-between space right now — the quiet before the next rush.

While waiting, I stumbled across something unexpected: old poems I had written many years ago, during one of the darkest times in my life. That period — one marked by loving someone addicted to heroin — inspired my first novel, The Silence in the Sound.

It wasn’t all darkness, I should say. There was youth, beauty, insane love and friendship, the fullness of life, and the ache of death. A bit of everything. But those particular poems captured the raw, horrific reality of being tethered to someone else’s addiction.

Reading them transported me back. Feelings I wasn’t prepared for came rushing in. And in that space — revisiting the old wounds and remembering how far I’ve come — I wrote a few more.

And then… ta da.

A new poetry chapbook was born: The Heroin Addict’s Wife.

Yes, it’s dark. But so is life sometimes. It’s raw, real, and honest. And I know I am not alone in this experience. While I am grateful that chapter of my life is far behind me, it still shaped me. It still lives in me. These poems are a way of spilling it all out, of exhaling the heaviness, and of maybe offering a thread of connection to someone else who has lived it too.

If even one reader feels seen in these words, I will be grateful for the camaraderie — and the survival.

Here is one poem from my upcoming chapbook, The Heroin Addict’s Wife:

NO MATTER

Danger signs glow like lanterns,
and I walk toward the light.
Isn’t that the truth—
that love ignores the warning?

Your skeletons rattle in the dark,
but I cradle them as my own.
Your love is a worn coat,
familiar in its fraying seams,
and familiar feels safe.

My darling, you are a mirror,
reflecting every place I’ve fled.
In sickness, in health,
until death pulls the curtain,
I cannot run from myself.

So I give you my heart—
and we dance,
and we burn,
and you are my drug.

But I am not yours.
Your eyes turn to her
as if she is the only star,
and I am only the dark.

I can’t match her pull,
no matter how I ache,
no matter how I bleed,
no matter how I try.

Have you ever stumbled across old writing that opened a door back into a version of yourself you thought you’d left behind?

Introducing Drive City: My Next Chapter
by Dianne C. Braley | Aug 5, 2025 | Blog, Book


If you’ve read my books or followed my journey, you probably know a few things about me—I’m a nurse, a writer, and I once lived on Martha’s Vineyard, where I had the life-changing experience of caring for a reclusive, Pulitzer Prize–winning author. That time on the island—and the man I cared for—inspired me to finally take writing seriously, something I’d always dabbled in but never fully believed I could pursue. Growing up blue-collar, becoming a writer felt like chasing clouds. It wasn’t something “people like me” were encouraged to do.

I also grew up surrounded by addiction. It shaped me in ways I didn’t understand until much later. Years after leaving my hometown, I fell madly in love with someone on that same beautiful island who was battling the same demons I’d seen all my life. That wild, heartbreaking love became the pulse of my debut novel and gave me the courage to write about the things that haunt us, the things we often keep quiet.

Now, I’m stepping into my next chapter. I’m querying my third novel—unsure if I’ll stay with my publisher or see what else is out there—but certain that this story needs to be told.

If my first book was inspired by the author who changed my life, and my second was shaped by a real trial that bled into the edges of my world, then Drive City is the story I never thought I’d have the guts to tell.

It’s about something I’ve only mentioned in passing. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s real: I grew up in Revere, Massachusetts, and in the late ’90s, things were wild. I never thought of myself as a bad kid, but I ended up doing some very bad things. I was part of a car theft ring. I dealt drugs. Life was chaotic, dangerous, and at times, it felt like there was no other way.

But Revere—my hometown—isn’t just grit and trouble. It’s loyalty, it’s friendship, it’s survival. It’s full of people clawing for more, even when the city keeps pulling them back. And that’s what Drive City is about: a raw, unflinching story of growing up hard, trying to break free, and the ties that bind you even when you run.

This book is fiction, but it’s built on truth. My truth. The world I came from.

This is my third baby, my next journey. And as terrifying as it is to share, I’m ready. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

—Dianne


Chapter 1

The sharp screech of tires tore through the humid summer night. Jane lay in bed, unable to sleep, her eyes following the restless shadows crawling across the cracked plaster walls. The bitter scent of burning rubber drifted in through the open window, mixing with the stale, salty air that had clung to the house for days. Sweat trickled down her chest, soaking the fabric of her nightgown, making the thick, suffocating heat feel unbearable.

In Revere, chaos wasn’t unusual. Not on the boulevard. Beach kids lit up the road all summer—smoke shows, engines screaming, rubber burned to nothing until the cops rolled in. Jane barely flinched anymore. Cars weren’t her thing. Just junk like her dad’s rusted-out Ford that coughed every time it left the driveway. But that would change. Life spins fast. And when you live like we did, you don’t swerve—you crash. That’s just physics.

Don’t Judge The Summer Before by Its Cover: A Dark Summer Read You Won’t Forget
by Dianne C. Braley | Jun 27, 2025 | Blog, Book

When readers first pick up The Summer Before, they often think it’s an easy beach read. I get it—the cover shows a girl jumping into the water, the title says Summer, and it’s set on a stunning Massachusetts island filled with beaches, lighthouses, and salty air. Sounds like the perfect light summer read, right?

But covers can be deceiving.

If you look closely at that cover, you’ll see it’s not all sunshine and freedom. There’s a storm rolling in the distance, darkness creeping across the horizon. Just like the story itself.

This isn’t your typical beach read. The Summer Before dives deep into secrets, betrayal, and the kind of truth that changes everything. It’s a raw, emotional novel exploring relationships, trauma, and resilience in ways that stick with readers long after the final page (at least that’s what they tell me).

I’ve had a few reviews where people felt a bit deceived at first—but then went on to leave glowing five-star reviews. Because while it surprises them, it also moves them.

Hey, Jaws had the same elements. Beautiful beaches, summer vibes… and then a shark shows up. (Don’t worry, there are no sharks here. But the darkness is real.)

Why Readers Love The Summer Before
The reviews are in, and people are loving it. I’m so grateful for every single reader who picks up this book, takes a chance on my work, and shares their thoughts.

This week, I’m writing my second check to MV Community Services from my book royalties—so thank yourselves for supporting. Giving back always feels good. Maybe even better than those coveted five-star reviews. If you’d like to learn more about their CONNECT program, which helps victims of domestic and sexual violence, click HERE. They’re doing truly important work.

Upcoming Book Events
📚 Book Signing: I’ll be signing The Summer Before on the porch at Edgartown Books on July 30th.


📝 Author Talk: I’ll also be speaking about writing and publishing at Barnes & Noble in Hingham on July 18th, alongside the fabulous Judy Lannon, whose new book Callahan’s Cottage just launched—and it’s AMAZING. Grab a copy. You won’t be sorry.

Karen Read is Free
And on a completely different note… can you believe it? Karen Read is FREE! I cried, celebrated, and bought the entire bar on Plum Island a round. It was a glorious day for justice and restored my faith in the system, at least a little. I have SO much to say about that and might have to write another post just for it. Tell me what you guys think—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for reading, thanks for supporting, and if you haven’t yet, grab your copy of The Summer Before today. It might not be the light read you expected—but it just might be the one you needed.

💛 Dianne

Writing the Hard Stuff: How Much Is Too Much?
by Dianne C. Braley | May 27, 2025 | Blog | 2 comments


This past weekend, I had the joy of doing what every writer dreams of—talking with readers face-to-face. Thank you to Barnes & Noble in Hingham and the always-welcoming West Tisbury Library on Martha’s Vineyard for hosting two incredible signings. The conversations were thoughtful, funny, sometimes raw, and reminded me why I write in the first place: connection.

One topic that came up again and again? Writing hard things. The gritty stuff. The uncomfortable truths. And more specifically, how graphic those truths should be.

It’s a question I wrestled with while writing my upcoming novel, Drive City. This book is different than my others—not just because the protagonist is male, but because the entire lens is rougher, sharper, more dangerous. Set in Revere, Massachusetts, it’s fast-paced and unapologetically edgy. I wrote it from a masculine perspective and fully immersed myself in that world—one of crime, loyalty, addiction, betrayal, and survival.

Let me tell you: it came with a lot of F-bombs.
(And yes, I spent part of my weekend cutting a lot of them. You’re welcome.)

But it made me think. As authors, we have a responsibility to our characters and our readers. To tell the truth—but in what form? Do readers want the raw, graphic version, or do they prefer the emotion of it captured in tone, implication, and restraint?

I’d love to hear from you.

Personally, I believe the answer is balance. Writing trauma, abuse, addiction, or violence isn’t just about shock value. It’s about emotional accuracy. Sometimes a single line—subtle, restrained—can cut deeper than a paragraph of graphic description. Other times, pulling punches does a disservice to the story.

For Drive City, I wanted the edge, but I didn’t want to numb readers with language. I wanted the grit, but not at the expense of depth. And I found myself asking with every scene: Is this here for truth, or just impact?

That’s where the real work is.

So, dear readers—what’s your take? Do you lean into stories that go there graphically, or do you prefer when a writer trusts your imagination to do the work? I’m curious.

And as always, thank you for reading my stories and letting me walk these lines between beauty and brutality, light and shadow.

The Shadow System Is No Longer Quiet—And No Longer Deniable
by Dianne C. Braley | Apr 27, 2025 | Blog, Essay | 0 comments


I’m writing this because I’m not just a writer—I have other interests, too. And one of them, like many of you, is in the place we call home. In our state. In our systems. In the corruption that could just as easily target any one of us. We could be Karen Read. That’s why I feel obligated to write about it. So forgive me if I’m straying a little from my usual topics. Hey, I’ve had enough. And I think a lot of us have.

Who would have thought that Norfolk County, Massachusetts—once a symbol of justice—would become the epicenter of a national reckoning?

This is the birthplace of the Massachusetts Constitution, a foundational text that shaped American democracy. We’re proud of our liberal ideals, academic brilliance, and progressive values. But beneath that polished image lies a darker truth—one rooted in the same soil that hosted the Salem witch trials, where hysteria, fear, and influence outweighed evidence.

That contradiction—between lofty ideals and messy realities—is on full display in Commonwealth vs. Karen Read.

Let’s not forget: a man died. Officer John O’Keefe, by all accounts, was a dedicated public servant. He deserved a transparent, impartial investigation. Every citizen does.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead, we’ve witnessed a public spectacle. A slow implosion of faith in the system. And the deeper you look, the more it seems like this isn’t about justice—it’s about protection. The case against Karen Read doesn’t look clean. It looks retaliatory. It looks like a desperate effort to prop up a crumbling structure that’s quietly run things for decades.

Evidence has been mishandled or gone missing. Surveillance footage is mysteriously edited. Cell phones disappear. Key timelines don’t make sense. Investigators send vulgar, unprofessional texts. Evidence is collected in Stop & Shop bags. Witnesses with law enforcement ties are shielded, while critics are arrested under obscure laws.

One of the most chilling moments came when the District Attorney released a video, publicly pleading with citizens to leave witnesses alone. That alone should raise red flags.

Because this is not how justice is supposed to work.

As a nurse with decades of experience, I’ve been trained to identify injury patterns, trauma, and inconsistencies. And I can say this with certainty: this doesn’t look like a car accident. It never did.

Worse still is what didn’t happen. No perimeter was secured. No thorough search of the home where John O’Keefe was found—coincidentally, another officer’s home. No door-to-door canvassing. If that had been your house or mine, it would have been torn apart.

Ask any medical or law enforcement professional without a stake in this case: Are those injuries consistent with a hit-and-run? Was the investigation conducted by the book? The honest answer, from the unbiased, is no.

Whether or not Karen Read was involved, this case should never have reached trial. The investigation alone disqualifies it.

I’m not declaring her innocence or guilt. That’s for a jury—ideally one not steeped in small-town politics. But I am saying this: the system is acting like it’s protecting something. And it’s not Officer O’Keefe. It’s itself.

If you know Massachusetts, you know that beneath the forward-facing progress lies a deeply entrenched network of legacy names, backroom deals, and family dynasties. There are towns here where your last name outweighs the facts. Where quiet favors matter more than public truth. And when someone threatens that status quo, they’re silenced.

Karen Read didn’t lay down. And now, we’re watching the consequences.

If you grew up around Boston—like I did—you’re not surprised. In places like Revere, we were raised with a simple rule: don’t talk to the cops, don’t trust the courts. Justice was blind, deaf, and dumb. You stayed out of it if you could.

But still, we hoped. Hoped that maybe it worked for someone.

Now, the shadow system we whispered about is out in the open. It’s loud. It’s ugly. And it’s terrifying.

Because even if Karen Read were guilty—which the evidence fails to prove—what’s unfolding should scare every one of us. A justice system more interested in preserving itself than finding the truth is a danger to everyone.

If it can happen here—in educated, polished, progressive Norfolk County—what do you think is happening elsewhere?

This isn’t just about Karen Read. Or even Officer O’Keefe.

It’s about all of us. It’s about whether we live in a system where justice belongs to the people—or to those who know how to manipulate it from the shadows.

And whether we’re finally ready to admit that maybe… it never really worked the way we hoped.

AN INTERESTING PERSPECTIVE?

I realize I have discussed this before—why wouldn’t I, when these are the topics of my last two books? I feel like it can’t be talked about enough. When I recently found myself drawing a parallel between the issues of addiction and sexual assault during a book talk, I braced myself for potential backlash. After all, I wasn’t equating one with the other, just acknowledging that both are massive issues rooted in shame and secrecy.

To my surprise, the audience responded positively. I was told that the comparison was eye-opening and thought-provoking, shedding light on how both addiction and sexual violence are prevalent issues that have been affecting society for decades. While addiction has been increasingly brought to the forefront and made more acceptable to discuss, sexual assault and violence are only in recent decades beginning to emerge from the shadows. The feedback was so encouraging that I was invited to speak about it further on the podcast What They Don’t Say. The episode is dropping soon.

Secondary Victims of Sexual Assault: The Perpetrator’s Family

When we discuss the impact of sexual assault (SA), our attention naturally gravitates toward the primary victims—the survivors. While their voices deserve to be at the forefront, there is an often-overlooked group that also suffers deeply: the families of the perpetrators. These individuals, who are often blindsided and overwhelmed by the revelation of their loved one’s crime, become secondary victims in their own right.

The Hidden Trauma of Perpetrators’ Families

Imagine being the parent, sibling, or partner of someone accused or convicted of sexual assault. The shock, shame, and guilt are immense, coupled with the societal ostracization and judgment that inevitably follow. These families, who are often innocent of any wrongdoing, find themselves questioning how they missed the signs or how they could have prevented the harm. In a society that is quick to label and condemn, they are left navigating their own trauma in isolation.


A Parallel with Addiction: Both Are Epidemics

Much like sexual assault, addiction is an epidemic in our society. It does not just affect the individual but reverberates throughout families and communities. The difference, however, lies in perception: addiction is increasingly seen as a public health issue, whereas sexual assault is predominantly viewed through a lens of criminal justice. Yet, both have far-reaching consequences for families.

In families dealing with addiction, there is an ongoing cycle of hope, betrayal, relapse, and recovery. They face public scrutiny, feelings of guilt, and the unanswerable question: “What could I have done differently?” Families of perpetrators of SA experience a similar cycle of disbelief, confusion, and shame. Both groups endure the stigma of being associated with someone who has caused harm.


The Need for Empathy and Support

Secondary victims—whether they are the families of addicts or of sexual assault perpetrators—deserve recognition and support. Just as families of those struggling with addiction have access to support groups and community resources, families of SA perpetrators need spaces to process their pain without fear of judgment.

Moving Towards Healing

Addressing these epidemics means acknowledging that trauma spreads far beyond the immediate victim. Creating spaces for families to heal without judgment can break cycles of silence and shame. We need to challenge the binary of victim versus perpetrator and look at the collateral damage that these crises leave in their wake.

Let’s encourage more voices to come forward—because ignoring the pain of secondary victims only perpetuates the silence surrounding these societal issues. We must strive for a more compassionate and nuanced approach, one that includes every person affected by these pervasive problems.

Bringing these voices to light is not about excusing or minimizing harm but about acknowledging the full extent of trauma—and ensuring that no one suffers in silence.


Recommended Reading

For those looking to explore these themes further—and to pick up either of my books if you haven’t—The Silence in the Sound details the devastating effects of growing up with addiction, while The Summer Before, inspired by a real trial, dives into the complex emotional landscape surrounding trauma. Here are some insightful books that address the complexities of being a secondary victim, whether related to addiction or crimes of violence:

The Unbroken Brain by Maia Szalavitz – An in-depth look at addiction through the lens of learning rather than moral failing, helping families understand and cope.

Aftermath: Violence and the Remaking of a Self by Susan J. Brison – A powerful memoir that examines trauma, recovery, and the ripple effects of violence.

The Recovering: Intoxication and Its Aftermath by Leslie Jamison – A blend of memoir and cultural analysis, focusing on addiction and the stories of those affected.

More Voices Through Fiction

Sometimes, fiction allows us to explore complex issues through stories that resonate on a deeper emotional level. Here are some novels that touch on themes of addiction, trauma, and the aftermath of violence, offering perspectives that may parallel the experiences of secondary victims:

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara – A heartbreaking exploration of trauma, friendship, and survival, showing how past abuse continues to haunt and shape lives.

The Night of the Gun by David Carr – A memoir that reads like fiction, tackling addiction, memory, and redemption, highlighting how addiction reshapes relationships.

We Are the Light by Matthew Quick – A novel that delves into the aftermath of a tragedy and how a community copes with collective trauma.

Turning Life’s Mess Into a Story: Why We Write Our Wrongs
by Dianne C. Braley | Mar 7, 2025 | Uncategorized | 0 comments


Let’s be honest—most of us are just walking around like real-life Batman, except instead of fighting crime in a cool suit, we’re out here subconsciously trying to fix our own past mistakes, rewrite our traumas, or undo the absolute mess someone else made of our lives. Some people go to therapy. Others, like me, write books, become nurses, or start podcasts to talk about it endlessly.

See, my first book? Yeah, the main character grew up in addiction and later married an addict—what an absolutely wild coincidence, since that totally didn’t parallel my own life at all. (Spoiler: It did.) And nursing? Did I become a nurse because I just love the sight of bodily fluids and 12-hour shifts? No. I became a nurse because I clearly thought I could fix people, even though, fun fact: that’s not actually our job description.

But this isn’t just about me (though I do enjoy making it about me). The truth is, most of us do this. We turn our past pain into purpose, sometimes without even realizing it. Some people who were bullied as kids become therapists, teachers, or life coaches. Those who grew up with financial struggles become financial advisors (or get really into couponing). If you had an overbearing, controlling parent, congratulations! You’re probably now a free-spirited artist who refuses to own a planner.


And it’s not just us regular folks. Some of the greatest writers, artists, and public figures have done the same. Maya Angelou turned her childhood trauma into poetry and activism that changed the world. J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter during some of the hardest years of her life, using storytelling as both an escape and a form of healing. Jeanette Walls transformed her difficult upbringing into The Glass Castle, proving that even the most painful past can become a bestselling memoir. And let’s not forget David Sedaris, who turned his life’s awkward, messy moments into hilarious essays that made him a literary icon.

It’s fascinating how we all try to balance the scales of our own life stories—sometimes successfully, sometimes with the grace of a baby deer on ice. But there’s power in taking the narrative and twisting it into something useful. Writing our wrongs (or other people’s) isn’t just a therapeutic exercise—it’s an act of rebellion, a way to say, “Ha! You thought that would break me? Well, joke’s on you, because now I have a platform and a microphone.”

Speaking of microphones—this is exactly why we’re toying around with the idea of a podcast. Because what’s better than fixing your past through personal reinvention? Talking about it loudly so everyone else can hear it, too. (Stay tuned.)

Now, let me know—what’s your thing? What are you doing to right your wrongs or the ones dumped on you? Are you out here saving the world, one therapy session at a time? Did you open a yoga studio because your nervous system has been shot since childhood? Or, like me, are you just writing books and pretending it’s totally normal that all your characters have a suspiciously familiar backstory? Drop your answers below. Let’s compare notes on our collective attempts to turn trauma into content!

Being a Writer Is Sort of Bullsh*t—And We Do It Anyway
by Dianne C. Braley | Feb 8, 2025 | Uncategorized | 0 comments


The Glamorous Lie of the Writing Life
If you tell people you’re a writer, they tend to react in one of two ways: either with wide-eyed admiration or a polite but barely concealed look of skepticism.

“Oh, wow! Like, books?”
Or…
“That’s…cool. But, like, what do you really do?”

Both reactions are valid because, let’s be honest, being a writer is kind of bullsh*t.

Before you get offended and hurl your ridiculously expensive notebook that makes you feel like a writer but doesn’t actually help you write at me, hear me out. The idea of being a writer is intoxicating—lounging in a cozy café, sipping artisanal coffee, effortlessly crafting a literary masterpiece.

The reality? It’s more like staring at a blinking cursor for three hours, rewriting the same sentence seventeen times, and calling it “progress.”

And yet, despite all the nonsense, we keep showing up. Why? Let’s break it down.

The Money Myth (LOL, What Money?)
There’s a reason “starving artist” is a cliché. Writing, unless you’re Stephen King or J.K. Rowling (or, fine, Colleen Hoover), doesn’t exactly make it rain.

Even if you do get a book deal, the advance is likely just enough to cover a few months of rent—if you’re lucky. Self-publishing? That’s great, but now you’re not just a writer, you’re also a marketer, graphic designer, social media manager, and professional beggar for Amazon reviews.

And let’s not even get started on freelance writing—where clients want 5,000 words for $50 and act like they’re doing you a favor.

So, why do we do this? Because we’re delusional. And maybe, just maybe, because we love it.

The Romanticized Struggle
Writers love to suffer. It’s part of the brand. If you’re not complaining about writer’s block, existential dread, or the soul-sucking process of querying agents, are you even a real writer?

Social media is full of tortured souls posting about their “impossibly difficult” craft while also reminding everyone that they’re somehow writing 10,000 words a day and closing six-figure deals. Meanwhile, the rest of us are crying into our laptops, Googling “how to finish a novel without ruining your life.”

Everyone Thinks They Can Do It
Another fun part of being a writer? Nobody respects the job.

If you’re a doctor, nobody assumes they can do surgery because they’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy. But writing? Oh, anyone can do that!

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to write a book! I just haven’t had the time.”
Cool. I’ve always wanted to be a brain surgeon. Just haven’t gotten around to med school yet.

Writing is a craft, and it takes years to get good at it. But because we all learned to write in elementary school, people assume it’s easy. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

Rejection Becomes a Lifestyle
Want to build character? Become a writer. Nothing teaches you resilience like pouring your soul into a project only to be rejected dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

Agents will ghost you. Publishers will pass. Readers will leave 1-star reviews that say, “Meh.”

The best part? You have to smile through it. Because if you complain, you’re unprofessional and “not cut out for this.” So instead, you develop a thick skin, pretend it doesn’t hurt, and keep writing.

So, Why Do We Do It?
With all this nonsense, you’d think we’d quit. And yet, we don’t. Because despite the frustration, the rejections, the imposter syndrome, and the laughable paychecks, writing is magic.

It’s the rush of nailing the perfect sentence. The satisfaction of watching characters come alive on the page. The connection with readers who see themselves in your work.

Being a writer is sort of bullsh*t. But it’s also kind of the best thing in the world. And that’s why, no matter how hard it gets, we keep coming back.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a manuscript to avoid working on.