Embracing Hermitism

When I wrote ANJIDIA, I had a virtually non-existent social life. I vaguely registered the fact at the time, but I chalked it up to a lot of things — the least of which was a dedication to my writing. That was in Washington state.

Now that I'm back in D.C., and back in the land of the living, I have friends who consider interaction a caveat of continuing said friendship. Instead of a part-time job at which I can write, or at least plot and daydream, I have a full-time job that requires the full atention of my mind and often pushes to 10-hour (even 11- or 12-hour) days.

One of my beta readers, Kat, was in the same position I am now back when I was living on Easy Street. I used to admire her ability to work 40 hours a week minimum, go out with friends, and still make time to read my stuff and write her own. Only now do I realize that I did not give her (or any of you full-time-job-having, non-reclusive writers) the proper amount of awe and worship. 

I am tired all the time. I feel guilty choosing to hide in my room typing away instead of talking to my roommate. And, when I finally get the mental energy to pick up my WIP or revisit ANJ, I get slammed (which is what happened last week and why I'm not proudly telling you about how well the new, and still untitled, story is going) and actually don't have the time to write — unless I give up my four hours of sleep.

So you tell me, what works for you? How do you do it?

(Please note: "Suck it up" is an acceptable response, as I realize that I do, indeed, need to suck it up.)

FIOS has arrived...

And that means that I should (please note the emphasis on "should") be able to renew my pledge to make this blog more than a passing fancy. I make no promises.

In case my prolonged absence had you scratching your noggins, let me ease your minds. I've been busy procuring an apartment (and all of the necessary accoutrement) with a long-time friend recently returned to the US of A after serving overseas. I hadn't seen her in years and suddenly we're living together. It's magnificent. And the place is really coming together, which always helps any transition.

But this new arrangement got me thinking about long-term (long-lasting)/long-distance relationships (of any kind) and why some succeed where others fail. I don't really know why this topic was the station my train of thought decided to break down at, but here I am. And I'm wondering: Is it really as simple as dedication (even one-sided dedication)?

If I were to compile two lists of my relationships (friends, romantic interests and even family), with one list containing the names of people who "made it" and the other a list of those who didn't, I believe the only thing the folks on the first list would have in common would be that one or both of us decided that we were going to make it work and stay in touch, and did. We may have had/have our up and down and periods of extended silence, but in the end an effort was/is made. The end.

I've run it over and over in my brain, and there was invariably a moment in each of my long-term and/or long-distance relationships when one of us made the effort to bug the other person into staying attached. Sadly, most of the time the driving force came from the other person...but that's a topic for a shrink's couch, not my blog.

My point is that my various familial and congenial relationships capable of withstanding the tests of time and space do not succeed because of some inherent trait somehow encoded into the relationship. The people who bothered to email, call or see me with some sort of regularity and sticktoitiveness are the ones with whom I've remained connected.

Am I the only one for whom this holds true? Does it matter?

In the end, I know that I have a network of people to whom I really matter and who really matter to me. What more could I ask for?

Then again, if effort is all it takes, why would any of my relationships fail?