Looking back, I see that I liked talking about my writing to people because it was a way to get my needy, insecure ego stroked. They were impressed. They thought I could do it! It felt great! But the downside of that is, then they knew about my dream, and they also knew it was still unaccomplished. I felt like I was stuck in a perpetual senior year, constantly being asked, "So when do you graduate again?" and my answer was always, "Maybe this year."
Not that I hide my writing. Not at all. But I'm definitely more selective about who's in-the-know. If I'm waiting for my daughter with my laptop in front of me and someone says, "Hey, whatcha working on?" I don't have to say, "Working on my novel!" with a giant smile and sparkledust in my eyes, silently begging them to ask me more. I can safely answer, "Just writing. I have a family website." This is a misleading answer, even though both parts are true, but that's my cover and I don't plan on blowing it.