"What do you do?" It's a question we ask people we meet. The answer reveals a bit of personal geography. It's a question we get too. When I tell people what I do, the next question is "Write what?" When I say magazine features, columns, and books, eyes light up. If I meet 15 people along life's byways, 10 say, "I'm going to write a book someday."

There's something magical, something alluring about the notion of writing a book. Maybe you long to author something. It appeals to so many people, it has to be on many "to do" lists. Reasons vary. Many feel their life is so unique they must share their story. Some are bursting to share life-changing events, a son's suicide, for instance.

Others envision their name in bright lights when their novel makes it to the silver screen. Some want to share their expertise. And some have no idea what they'll write, only that "some day they'll write a book."

Maybe this dream goes back our early connection with books. From the start, we learn that books mean business. We're required to read them, tested on what's between their covers, and we move through the grades, propelled by books. And who hasn't read a book you remember all your life. Reading can be sheer joy.

Two great memoirs and two novels, all works of art. Photo by T. Poland When I was a boy I read every volume of the World Book Encyclopedia Mom and Dad gave us. I read a series of science books, the All About books my Aunt Vivian gave us. And then there were The Hardy Boys mystery series, written by various ghostwriters.

Great books transport us to other worlds and other lives. My favorite books include Deliverance by James Dickey, For Whom The Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway, Burning The Days, a memoir by James Salter, and Out Of Africa, a memoir by Isak Dinesen. Books like these amount to works of art and no small amount of effort preceded their publication. Long before the first word appeared, planning took place. A spark of imagination fanned by the winds of hard work fired these writers's creativity.

And that's the thing. Most people who tell me they're going to write a book some day fail to grasp how hard it is. They don't know yet, if ever, that writing a book is a prison sentence to solitary confinement. Writing a book demands huge chunks of time. No other way to publication exists. Thee are no short cuts.

Night after night you burn the midnight oil. Long days with nothing but a keyboard as your companion, music in the background. It's intense and the isolation and loneliness can crush you. You can't write a page or two now and then. That won't work. It takes commitment and there are no guarantees it'll ever see print. It's risky. A gamble. Most people shy away when they size up the reality.

I teach a course in a community college, "So You Want To Write A Book." A lot of folks sign up. For most of my students writing a book amounts to therapy. Just taking my course makes them feel better. "Someday," they say ... "someday."

And those people I meet along life's byways who want to write a book? I give them this advice. Block out a writing schedule and start making notes. Make an outline, write a synopsis, and most of all research and write on a regular basis. If you intend to run a marathon some day, you'd better be running now on a routine basis.

I'm asked to ghost write books and I take on serious projects for fees. I'm working on two now that have a good chance to make publication. You wouldn't believe, though, the silly offers I get. One woman, a transplant from New York City, insists I write her book, which, she's sure, will be the basis for a hit TV series. With a staccato nasal voice and hands flying, she squawks, "My Gawd, you Southerners are so backwards. My book's about a gal from New Yawk City who comes down hea and adapts to you Southerners." (Trust me, she hasn't.)

"People will wait on line for our book." She wants me to devote three or so years of my life to her book— for free. Ain't happening.

Another woman approached me wanting to write her memoir about her affair with a politician of note. He, though married of course, took her to Super Bowls and supported her a long time. And then he did something unforgivable. He died. She had to go to work. The idea of a tell-all book appealed to her as a means of making money. My fee? Sharing money that was sure to come in. I declined.

There you have it, the good, the bad, and the ugly. So you want to write a book? I know some of you do. You've told me. Remember what I'm about to tell you. Be tough. Don't get discouraged. Writing the manuscript is Act One in the grueling drama of seeing your dream come true. Act Two is getting an agent for fiction or a publisher if it's nonfiction. Very tough. Act Three is dealing with editors and seeing the manuscript through production to print. It won't happen in a hurry and it won't be easy. In fact, it can seem near impossible.

Thirty agents and 15 publishers rejected A Time To Kill by John Grisham. Thirty-three publishers rejected Chicken Soup for The Soul. Among rejected writers' ranks you'll find Pearl S. Buck, Norman Mailer, Joseph Heller, Louis L'Amour, Jack London, and Dr. Seuss.

Despite the many gatekeepers, bad books make it to print. Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull was rejected 20 times. Too bad it isn't 201 and counting.

Here's my closing chapter for would-be authors. Have something worthwhile to write. Establish a writing routine. Study the publishing world (it's chaotic due to the Internet), have an artist's soul but be a businessman and have a thick skin for reviews will be coming. Let no one influence your writing; it's your book.

One more thing ... if you succeed you're as close to immortality as people get on this Earth. Books live on long after their authors go to that big library in the sky. Get your name on a cover and someone in a distant future will say your name and wonder what you were like. And just maybe they'll think ... Someday I'm going to write a book too."

Email Tom with feedback and ideas for new columns. tompol@ earthlink.net