When writers are asked what they do for a living, most admit that they stammer or say, “Oh, I write” or something to that effect.

See, I don’t get that. I don’t understand why a writer would have a problem saying he or she is a writer any more than a dentist would have a problem saying he or she is a dentist.

Oh, but writing is a creative thing, you say. Well, trust me, my dentist can get very creative in the ways he chooses to deliver pain. Or “but they’ll ask me what I write.” And so you tell them. “I write on mental health for the local newspaper” or “I write press releases for a few web-based companies” or “I write articles for work-at-home moms.”

Or, some writers fear, they’ll be asked who they write for. Well, what’s the big deal? “I write for the local paper,” or “I write for a number of publications, most are local magazines for parents,” or “I write for National Geographic.” It doesn’t matter. The only person who attaches judgment to what or who you write for, is usually yourself.

Oh, but then, some insecure writer will argue, people usually ask me how much money I make. How rude!

Well, personally, I don’t find it rude at all. It’s genuine interest. When I meet people, most are intrigued that they’re talking to an actual (gasp!) full-time writer, and want to know how I do it. Do you make enough? Do you make a lot? How did you get started? Are you on assignment right now? Do they pay your travel expenses? Can I get in on it?

And most of the times, I answer happily. I’m not insecure about what I do or how much I make, so yes, I tell them that at times I’ve made more than they do in six months, and at others, I’ve wondered if I could continue to afford food. I tell them about my clients, and I tell them funny stories about having received double payment and having to return a check I could most definitely have used. I tell them about the times I’ve gone “on assignment” without an actual assignment, faked my way through it, and received recognition for those stories. I tell them about the stories that never sold, how I tend to become a hermit, how it’s such a weird but amazing lifestyle.

And maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never received judgment or been asked to take the neighbor’s dog for a walk, or been looked down upon for working “from home.” As far as my neighbors, family, and friends are concerned, I have the coolest job on the planet, regardless of what I make.

I think it’s about attitude. It’s about being happy talking about what you do, letting that passion show, and giving people an idea of what you’re about. Instead, some writers get offended by that “how much do you make” question (which even lawyers, doctors, and engineers get, by the way), and lose such great opportunites to get to know people.

And does this have anything to do with marketing?

It does. Because these are the same people who will later e-mail you some terrific story ideas (and maybe even some horribly overdone and bad ones), it’s the same people who’ll say, you know, since you’re interested in mental health, I should tell you about this thing they do in South India that I’ve heard about. They’ll recommend you when someone in their marketing department needs a writer, and they’ll call you when they see your byline in their favorite magazine.

It’s the same people, who because they know what you do and what you’re about, will happily connect you to friends and family who wouldn’t be willing to talk to just about any writer and journalist, but would be happy to share their story with you.

And it’s the same people who, when having moved to another city, will offer you a bed and free food, “because there’s this great project here that I think you’d love, but your editors probably won’t buy it unless you come here and talk to the actual people involved.”

Tell people what you do. That’s your assignment for today.