Being a writer and an author is one of the loneliest jobs there is I think. We spend hundreds and hundreds of hours sequestered in an office, at a kitchen table, in a coffee shop or at a diner or in my case a garage working on our writing with just hope and faith that keeps us going. We work on a story for months and sometimes years not knowing what will happen once it’s done and people read it. Many of us work jobs we hate until that hopeful day when THIS works out and we can survive and have it be a financially stable career. The writing is often the only thing that makes us feel good about ourselves from a professional standpoint because we have found it’s the only thing that makes us feel good professionally.
A writer’s mind and heart are lonely places too because many don’t understand it or what goes into it. It’s an even lonelier place when the people we love and are closest to don’t really want to understand it or show an interest in it except passively. Most authors or aspiring ones do this because we love it. We love writing and creating and expressing ourselves in ways that sometimes we don’t normally know how to do in the real world or just can’t. For every made up bit of fiction on paper or the screen exists a little piece or pieces of the creator even if it’s only known to us. Pieces that we can’t talk about out loud, don’t know how to or don’t have anyone to listen. The hopes, dreams, and interests of our characters are often in small and subtle ways extensions of our own that we dare not talk about.