It’s all so strange. I’m an extrovert extraordinaire. Put me in a roomful of strangers and I will instantly know the life stories of all the interesting-looking people there. Outgoing by nature and a journalist by training, there’s nothing more I enjoy than drawing people out, listening to their stories and finding out what makes them tick.
I don’t have any trouble talking about myself either; not saying I’m completely revelatory about things that are TMI. But I can easily talk about things in movies, politics, sports or books that interest me. I’m well-read and well-traveled so I usually have some first-hand knowledge about a wide variety of subjects. (ASIDE: Nothing annoys me more than people who have strong opinion on things they have no knowledge/experience about.)
But when it comes to my writing–talking about it, discussing it, sharing it with other people–I’ve all of a sudden become the biggest introvert. Even with my critique partners and within my writing groups, I find myself clamming up. I wasn’t always like this. Back in the heady days of my first writing year, I couldn’t shut up about my progress, my ideas, my opinions on what’s hot and what’s not in the writing world. I blogged every day, document each and every word I had written down.
What a difference three years make. Now, I just want to bury myself in a hole and write. I don’t want to participate in forums, blog about it (although this bit that I’m doing is actually pretty cathartic) or discuss it with friends. I don’t want to reveal what I’m working on, how far I’ve gotten, or what I’m going to do with the manuscript once I’m finished with it. I don’t want to dwell on the stories I have out there, what houses they’re in and what their statuses are.
But I am still quite able and very much willing to listen to other people’s works-in-progress. I love hashing out ideas with other writers, offering suggestions and reading their manuscripts.
Just don’t ask to read mine, please.
You may have noticed the new blog design. It leaner and meaner, dedicated solely to word count and hashing out the demons of writing. I won’t talk about TV, movies, or any other aspects of my personal life.
It might be boring, but at this point in my introverted life, I’m doing this for me. For accountability and for posterity. And so, it begins.
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