This post is inspired by one I read earlier today where the writer admitted they had a recent revelation: that we, as writers are all alone. I felt for a moment, just a brief moment that this person was rather out of touch with reality if they only just realised writing is a lonesome job. But then again, I had to realise that this person may not have been fully aware of what writing required of them in the first place.
All this lead me to think about what writing really means to writers: it’s our way of communicating to the masses, to masses much larger than an individual would come across physically in life. Yet, it’s a paradoxical situation, isn’t it? To reach the masses, to seek a public, an audience, we spend a grand amount of time all alone. That in our solitude, in our crazy multi character alternate world moments, we are in fact reaching out in the most exposing way to the people in the real world.
Writers aren’t all introverts, preferring to be left alone, but yes, the job requires we find ourselves a quite space, a moment (an hour or two) to ourselves and our imagination. So how about that? Writers are lonely people who love an audience, in fact, crave one.