Writing can be the most singular activity one can do. And yet, you stand in a crowd of people who've chosen the same passion. A writer has conversations with non-existent people as real to them as the flesh and blood type. They angst over emotions imaginary characters will express, and speak about them in the present tense. Only other writers understand the insanity of writing your story into a dead end because you, the creator of this passion play, wants a character to do something they are insistent is an action they would never do.
Writers have to balance the precarious nature of gently expressing our viewpoints through our stories, without beating the reader over the head. In the end, we sit in front of our computer, or typewriter, or with pen/pencil and paper, and gnash our teeth to put the ideas pushing through our brains onto paper.
What else would a sane person want to do?
Sable Angel
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