This Thing Called Loneliness

Writing is an alone kind of business. It can’t be done while chatting with someone. However, a warm, friendly pup and several cups of hot coffee don’t hurt a thing. Some writers get away from it all by going to a cabin or the seashore while writing or to a different country while researching. I understand the value in that but it’s not for me. The hollow echo of my voice would get in the way of hearing the voices of my characters. So, yes, aloneness is required for writing but loneliness is not.

Some sounds aid creativity: the distant sound of the train, wind through the leaves, rain on the windows. Sometimes, in my mind I go to a small, white-washed house in Ireland. It sits atop a knoll, grass on one side, gray, wet rocks on the other. the house overlooks the Irish Sea. Waves foam and pound the shoreline while I write. But, of course, my dog is with me. The Irish seem to prefer tea to coffee but that’s only a small hurdle.

Loneliness can be overwhelming. It can so fill my heart and mind that creativity is crowded out. Where loneliness rules, sadness and worry creep in to pay court. I don’t like loneliness and haven’t found it to be worth a thing. Being alone is not a necessity for loneliness. One can be lonely in a crowded room, or be comfortable when no one else is in the house.

Yesterday, Jane and I went to the monthly luncheon at Robbie’s house. Nine friends gathered around Robbie’s table, chatting, laughing, eating taco soup, salad, and pie. It was fun to listen and be a part of the conversation. These women are diverse, having different backgrounds, different views, yet we enjoy being together. Robbie’s house is all decked out for Christmas and her welcome is warm and real.

When aloneness threatens to turn into loneliness, friendly get-togethers are a pleasant antidote. Snippets of conversation, an interesting painting, another person’s lifestyle are tucked away to be brought out again on the pages of a book.

Ned McNeil understands aloneness. She and Penny, the gray cat she inherited, are the only people in the Victorian house known as Granger’s Mansion. Ned, however, does not let sadness be her companion. She has delightful memories of being in this house as a child. And, she has her friends and the promise of an interesting job. Plus, there’s a mystery that needs to be solved and who could be lonely with all that going on?

As the days shorten and nights lengthen, it would be easy to give way to loneliness. Or, this season could be used as a wonderful time for stopping in for a visit with Ned or, perhaps Darcy and Flora. So, I guess, in a way, a writer is never really alone. She always has her imaginary friends for company.