In my earlier post about what our answer is when asked, "What do You Do?," I forgot one of the caricatures that tend to pop up on our writer journey - the slutty reader.
She'll read anything that's bound, her roaming eyes bounce off the bookshelves while she salivates. She wants your stuff, she wants it in her hands, she wants to stay up all night with it. And the second you meet her, she jumps your bones.
Slutty Reader: So what do you do?
BBC: I'm a writer.
Slutty Reader: REALLY? Oh I love to read, I'm such a reader. I'd love to read your stuff! What's your email? We can Google Doc it.
BBC: Uh... I'm actually an architect. I just like to tell people I'm a writer sometimes.
Saying, "You're a writer? Hey I'm a reader - can I have you stuff?" is kinda like saying, "Whoa, you're a chick, I'm a guy - wanna have sex?"
And really, how much of a turn-on is that?
Giving your brain-squeezed, much-loved words to just anyone shouldn't be an option. It'd be like handing your soul over to the first person that showed any interest - whether they've got a halo or horns. Sharing your work is an intimate thing, pick carefully who your readers are with those first few drafts that you're not sure are ready yet.
And if you meet Slutty Reader - remember, you're really an architect.