But this weekend drove home to me just how solitary an occupation writing can be. Friday night we dined with another couple, and Saturday we went to a huge party. Two completely different venues and conversation styles, and yet I couldn't really discuss my writing at either one. Don't get me wrong - I desperately wanted to. Writing is my passion, and as I'm closing in on the final third of my manuscript, it is almost all I think about day and night. I have plenty to say in my writing groups online; sharing the ups and downs of the plot, the writing process, my painful-yet-continual promotion for my published book, and excitement about the upcoming national convention I'll attend. Sharing those details with non-writers, however, doesn't really work.
Sure, I got the standard question 'how's your book selling'. That is good for maybe a sentence. Can't go into detail though, because none of my friends know about the complicated vagaries of epublishing vs print. The truly polite will ask me what I'm writing now, but after I give the standard blurb, we're done. Nobody wants to hear if I hit my word count (or why I didn't). They don't care if I'm stuck on a particular plot point. Or how I had to dump a new crit partner after just a few weeks. And I certainly can't share with them about my most recent rejection, because they'll assume I'm a failure, as if I blew a job interview.
It feels as if I'm keeping a lid on one of the biggest pieces of my life. And it is very, very hard. How do all of you deal with this issue?