For me writing is a solitary sport. I not only have to have isolation to write, but I need it outside of my writing sessions, as well. After the hours of morning composition, I stay to myself with the rest of the day’s tasks. It’s as if I’m abuzz with all the ideas spinning through me and can’t slow to think in everyday normalcy. I am still inhabiting the world I was drawn to create, the story I’m unfolding.

Most of my friends don’t understand this lifestyle and in fact fall away from my resistance to hang out, act normal, relax. But other writers seem to. I wanted to share the space here with those I’ve met along the way that remind me that drawing inward to write is not a cheat out of participating in a full life. It’s more like the inner world takes precedence over the outer. And from that introspection comes a work of written art.

These are my people.