A woman with whom I went to high school died Friday.
I say I went to high school with her, but the truth is that I barely knew her name and I don't recall ever speaking to her. Worse, I can't remember whether she was in my graduating class or my wife's. She was someone I recognized when I saw her in town. That's all.
So what does this have to do with writing?
I have become a virtual hermit over the last couple of months. Aside from my family, the only people with whom I've had any significant contact are my writing students. I avoid going into town; in fact, I sometimes go days at a stretch without leaving this dirt road. I haven't visited friends or had friends come to the house since before Christmas. If something takes me away from writing, then I have no time for it.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Yes, writing is a solitary pursuit. But my writing is born of a fascination with people, and I feel the loss of that interraction. Even Thoreau, for all his praise of solitude and contemplation, had to go hang around in town now and then. So I think I'll take the dog for a walk out onto the paved road this afternoon and see who we meet. It's a terrible thing to not know your neighbors, or people who were in your high school class, especially in a small town.
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4 comments:
Yeah, stuff like that can really knock you back, make you stop short and realize you have to take time to be with people.
Sometimes I wish I lived in a place where I could experience a little isolation. I have always lived in a city.
I was born in a city. If you had told me twenty years ago (when I was hanging out in Hollywood) that I'd someday be happy living in the sticks, I'd have laughed at you. Fact is, I love it here and wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but it is nice to get out once in a while. It's too easy to become obsessed with work.
Why go out in public when you have entire worlds to explore in your mind? Though I do agree that writers need human contact once and a while. Especially stay at home writers. You go a little stir crazy. Can't wait for summer. Then I get to write from the deck. It's a little less claustrophobic when you're in the fresh air amongst the trees.
Which reminds me... we should try to get some of the Maine writers together for a lunch or something. The network feels more real when you've actually shaken the hands of those you associate with online.
Hope the walk did the trick.
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