It's been eye-opening these past few months, getting to know a variety of writers online. Writers who are just beginning their journey and those who have already been published. And all the rest of us in between.
It didn't take long for me to discover that we writers seem to have much in common. Well, not all of us. But many of us.
We don't seem to have a lot of confidence in our abilities and talents. We can be very sensitive to criticism, even when it's constructive and delivered oh-so gently. We're not very good judges of our own work and talent. And we're all about 15 degrees off center, as my friend Josin says. (I'd say closer to 25 degrees off, but what do I know?)
But the one trait I've noticed over and over among us writer-types is this: We all seem to relish being alone. I know I do. Most of the time, anyway.
But it can be a bit of a conundrum. For me, anyway. In order for me to properly conjure the real world, I need to actually get out and experience it. I mean, Google is great and all, but it's a poor substitute for getting out and watching and observing real people. It's amazing how many ideas I get, how many characters my mind creates, all while sitting having a latte at Starbucks. Or shopping at Kroger. Or eating lunch with a buddy in the city.
But if I get out too much, I'm not sitting here, butt in seat, writing. And that seems to take up an awful lot of my time these days. My wife jokingly (I think) refers to me as a hermit. And she's not far from the truth, to be honest with you. If I didn't force myself to go to the gym and take my son to Little League, I'm not sure when I would get out.
This is a big change for me. I spent many years as a working journalist, which is as much about socializing and schmoozing as it is about writing and reporting. I spent years cultivating sources, working them on the phone and over lunches and coffee (and early on in my career, over drinks). The newsroom I worked in was always full; loud and chaotic. Our desks sat next to one another, no cubicles for us. It was people, people, people.
It drove me nuts.
I mean, I like people. I do. I really do. But man, do I relish my solitude. And now that I am a "writer," I have a built-in excuse to be a full-time recluse. I spend my days alone, writing and researching and editing. When my phone rings, I grumble. I hate to be interrupted when I'm working, even if it's my lovely wife calling just to chat.
I suspect this isn't healthy.
So my questions to you, dear blog buddies, are these: When is alone too alone? Are you a hermit? By design or by necessity? Do you consider yourself a loner? Antisocial? Is it healthy?
Let me know. Have a great Wednesday night. I know I will, if these damned Cubs can come back and beat the Pirates! :)
It didn't take long for me to discover that we writers seem to have much in common. Well, not all of us. But many of us.
We don't seem to have a lot of confidence in our abilities and talents. We can be very sensitive to criticism, even when it's constructive and delivered oh-so gently. We're not very good judges of our own work and talent. And we're all about 15 degrees off center, as my friend Josin says. (I'd say closer to 25 degrees off, but what do I know?)
But the one trait I've noticed over and over among us writer-types is this: We all seem to relish being alone. I know I do. Most of the time, anyway.
But it can be a bit of a conundrum. For me, anyway. In order for me to properly conjure the real world, I need to actually get out and experience it. I mean, Google is great and all, but it's a poor substitute for getting out and watching and observing real people. It's amazing how many ideas I get, how many characters my mind creates, all while sitting having a latte at Starbucks. Or shopping at Kroger. Or eating lunch with a buddy in the city.
But if I get out too much, I'm not sitting here, butt in seat, writing. And that seems to take up an awful lot of my time these days. My wife jokingly (I think) refers to me as a hermit. And she's not far from the truth, to be honest with you. If I didn't force myself to go to the gym and take my son to Little League, I'm not sure when I would get out.
This is a big change for me. I spent many years as a working journalist, which is as much about socializing and schmoozing as it is about writing and reporting. I spent years cultivating sources, working them on the phone and over lunches and coffee (and early on in my career, over drinks). The newsroom I worked in was always full; loud and chaotic. Our desks sat next to one another, no cubicles for us. It was people, people, people.
It drove me nuts.
I mean, I like people. I do. I really do. But man, do I relish my solitude. And now that I am a "writer," I have a built-in excuse to be a full-time recluse. I spend my days alone, writing and researching and editing. When my phone rings, I grumble. I hate to be interrupted when I'm working, even if it's my lovely wife calling just to chat.
I suspect this isn't healthy.
So my questions to you, dear blog buddies, are these: When is alone too alone? Are you a hermit? By design or by necessity? Do you consider yourself a loner? Antisocial? Is it healthy?
Let me know. Have a great Wednesday night. I know I will, if these damned Cubs can come back and beat the Pirates! :)
