| General Fiction posted August 19, 2021 |
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Are writer's introverts ?
Insight
by zanya
It's an interesting question. First thing came to mind on reading this idea was the classic picture of the writer in olden times huddled beside his( in earlier times it was usually only men who wrote or were recognised as writers) half-burned candle, grasping his quill, at the witching hour of night as he racks his brain to find the precise word for his reader. Digging for buried treasure as it were.
It's like mining for diamonds the writing art. Lots of unsuitable words and expressions have to be cast aside, thrown on the trash heap before the exact word can be found.
My writinglife occurs mostly in the small hours of the night when the hush and bustle of day is done. It's then I get to don my writer's hat and explore a different world. Sitting at my computer with the screen dimmed, I revel in my alternative universe, intrigued to see where my characters will take me as the night wears on. I may meet some new arrival in the neighbourhood or hear some juicy local gossip. Characters love to share their experiences. At times like this being an introvert( if that what sitting alone at the top of the house in a tiny studio with only a ticking clock for company means ?) focuses the mind.
In my working day my characters may 'pay me a visit'. The vicar in my latest victorian tale may drop by to say he will be performing hurried nuptials for a blushing young bride in the local village who wishes to conceal her pregnant status. Or the local squire may wish it to be known that he is now officially going a -courting in pursuit of a young bride of child-bearing years, having sown his wild oats extensively and having reached, to his surprise, his middle years.
This 'visit' can take place as I sit with my colleagues ( or used to before Covid 19) having a laugh over lunch. My character's 'visit' usually absorbs all my attention with an interior focus and a colleague may wonder why I've suddenly gone quiet and am no longer joining in the staff banter.
It's not all about meeting new 'people' though. Sitting in our staff area which looks on to a park we are able to see a small lake where seasonal feathered friends arrive and depart. Here swans and mallard duck regulate their avian lives and coo and cuddle their newborns or squawk loudly with paternal concern as they help their young fledglings navigate their freedom. Moments like these inspire poetic expression and thereby require contemplation. As writers exercising our creativity, spontaneity is crucial. The moment of inspiration can be fleeting. We have to take hold of it before it dissipates like morning dew. We retreat into the recesses of our creativity.
But what would the world do without its introvert writers and artists? In our unpredictable silences we hear an inner voice whispering words of wonder, facilitating the process of insight.
Reluctantly, I am forming the opinion that writers, lots of them, can be filed under the heading of 'Introvert.' Looks like I am one of them!
******************
Are Writers Introverts? contest entry
It's an interesting question. First thing came to mind on reading this idea was the classic picture of the writer in olden times huddled beside his( in earlier times it was usually only men who wrote or were recognised as writers) half-burned candle, grasping his quill, at the witching hour of night as he racks his brain to find the precise word for his reader. Digging for buried treasure as it were.
It's like mining for diamonds the writing art. Lots of unsuitable words and expressions have to be cast aside, thrown on the trash heap before the exact word can be found.
My writinglife occurs mostly in the small hours of the night when the hush and bustle of day is done. It's then I get to don my writer's hat and explore a different world. Sitting at my computer with the screen dimmed, I revel in my alternative universe, intrigued to see where my characters will take me as the night wears on. I may meet some new arrival in the neighbourhood or hear some juicy local gossip. Characters love to share their experiences. At times like this being an introvert( if that what sitting alone at the top of the house in a tiny studio with only a ticking clock for company means ?) focuses the mind.
In my working day my characters may 'pay me a visit'. The vicar in my latest victorian tale may drop by to say he will be performing hurried nuptials for a blushing young bride in the local village who wishes to conceal her pregnant status. Or the local squire may wish it to be known that he is now officially going a -courting in pursuit of a young bride of child-bearing years, having sown his wild oats extensively and having reached, to his surprise, his middle years.
This 'visit' can take place as I sit with my colleagues ( or used to before Covid 19) having a laugh over lunch. My character's 'visit' usually absorbs all my attention with an interior focus and a colleague may wonder why I've suddenly gone quiet and am no longer joining in the staff banter.
It's not all about meeting new 'people' though. Sitting in our staff area which looks on to a park we are able to see a small lake where seasonal feathered friends arrive and depart. Here swans and mallard duck regulate their avian lives and coo and cuddle their newborns or squawk loudly with paternal concern as they help their young fledglings navigate their freedom. Moments like these inspire poetic expression and thereby require contemplation. As writers exercising our creativity, spontaneity is crucial. The moment of inspiration can be fleeting. We have to take hold of it before it dissipates like morning dew. We retreat into the recesses of our creativity.
But what would the world do without its introvert writers and artists? In our unpredictable silences we hear an inner voice whispering words of wonder, facilitating the process of insight.
Reluctantly, I am forming the opinion that writers, lots of them, can be filed under the heading of 'Introvert.' Looks like I am one of them!
******************
It's like mining for diamonds the writing art. Lots of unsuitable words and expressions have to be cast aside, thrown on the trash heap before the exact word can be found.
My writinglife occurs mostly in the small hours of the night when the hush and bustle of day is done. It's then I get to don my writer's hat and explore a different world. Sitting at my computer with the screen dimmed, I revel in my alternative universe, intrigued to see where my characters will take me as the night wears on. I may meet some new arrival in the neighbourhood or hear some juicy local gossip. Characters love to share their experiences. At times like this being an introvert( if that what sitting alone at the top of the house in a tiny studio with only a ticking clock for company means ?) focuses the mind.
In my working day my characters may 'pay me a visit'. The vicar in my latest victorian tale may drop by to say he will be performing hurried nuptials for a blushing young bride in the local village who wishes to conceal her pregnant status. Or the local squire may wish it to be known that he is now officially going a -courting in pursuit of a young bride of child-bearing years, having sown his wild oats extensively and having reached, to his surprise, his middle years.
This 'visit' can take place as I sit with my colleagues ( or used to before Covid 19) having a laugh over lunch. My character's 'visit' usually absorbs all my attention with an interior focus and a colleague may wonder why I've suddenly gone quiet and am no longer joining in the staff banter.
It's not all about meeting new 'people' though. Sitting in our staff area which looks on to a park we are able to see a small lake where seasonal feathered friends arrive and depart. Here swans and mallard duck regulate their avian lives and coo and cuddle their newborns or squawk loudly with paternal concern as they help their young fledglings navigate their freedom. Moments like these inspire poetic expression and thereby require contemplation. As writers exercising our creativity, spontaneity is crucial. The moment of inspiration can be fleeting. We have to take hold of it before it dissipates like morning dew. We retreat into the recesses of our creativity.
But what would the world do without its introvert writers and artists? In our unpredictable silences we hear an inner voice whispering words of wonder, facilitating the process of insight.
Reluctantly, I am forming the opinion that writers, lots of them, can be filed under the heading of 'Introvert.' Looks like I am one of them!
******************
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