The Lonely Scribe
I’ve been brooding over how solitary my journey as a writer has been — and wondering if, among time-consuming activities, I might should have picked something more social to pursue in my later years.
Quite some time ago, I received an invitation to play bass in a praise band. The commitment required learning six songs a week. It’s a job. I retired from a job. I wasn’t planning on getting another one.
Civic theater comes to mind, but it’s the same proposition, and the gentleman who volunteers at the museum is clearly bored out of his mind.
Dance classes. I like dancing. I used to disco like crazy, but I’d need to lose thirty-five pounds before signing up. What else is there; pickleball? Either way, let’s factor in the time it takes to recover from knee surgery.
So, writing it is.
There’s a group that meets at Barnes and Noble. Arranging words into sentences is not conducive to chatter. The only sound you’ll hear is tap, tap, tap, on laptops. I never attend.
I’ve sat in with writer’s guilds. Participation ranged from poor to zero except in one case. Those guys were great to be around. The day I met them, they adjourned for the summer and never reconvened.
Forget conferences. It’s the wrong product.
Lately, I’ve been flirting with the practice of engagement. Follow content creators who appear to be on the same wavelength. Post thoughtful comments. Manage expectations. Folks are busy. Authors tend to be introverts. Some of us might be wary of picking up a stalker.
I’m out of ideas. Nevertheless, here I am. There’s a reply widget under every single one of my essays. We can start any time.
Are you a writer? Have you successfully built community? Tell us how you did it.
Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay