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Writing Recluse

As a writer with a day job I have often found myself in a difficult conundrum: socialize or write? Fresh out of college I raced home after work to write. As the years went by I forced myself to have some form of a social life. I mean; it’s hard to write about people without observing people. Most of my socialization came from my co-workers, and then the Internet.

I continue to struggle with this. And now that I have a child it’s even more powerful. The hours in the day that I can write are small, itty bitty. Just three hours after the kid goes to sleep before I go to sleep. When everything in the world needs to be done: cleaning, cooking, organizing, bills, laundry, writing, quiet time with the husband, showing the cats that they are still loved.

I do like being social. Going out with friends, grabbing dinner, chatting. But I fear I have pushed many people away. Not my intention, just a dangerous downside of being a writer.

Ahh, the glamorous life of a writer. Instead of arguing with friends over where to get dinner I’m arguing with my characters over how to write their scenes. And since I spend most of my time planning my novels I feel even more socially awkward. I think of something that one of my characters has done and want to throw it into the conversation. So far I have realized my insanity and stopped myself prior. Or if I’ve failed my friends have been nice enough not to notice.

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