Writers are weird. We do what we do in solitary confinement. Most of us have real lives and we move through family and work life just fine, but we don’t talk writing with family and co-workers, or at least I seldom do … almost never. But when I lock down a third of a novel so rock solid it leaves me breathless just reading it again for edits, anticipating what comes next, because I know what’s coming, I wish I had someone to talk to.
The thing is, a writing partner, critique group, beta readers … they tend to slow me down or even derail me. When I write, I write at a blistering pace. Five thousand words in a session at least and it’s in my head rolling out like a movie and I don’t want interruptions or conversation until it’s done. But when a section is done I would love to have someone read it and hear what they think. And then I would sit there waiting for feedback, not writing, because that’s how that works out for me.
So. Day job tasks all sorted out and all the worlds problems either solved or well in hand. Back to writing, alone.