So as I sit back and write this, I’m thinking about my friends—well, obviously—and I’m realizing that most of my friends, the people I’m closest to, are writers. Seriously, it’s true.
Sure, I have acquaintances outside this business. I’m friendly with people from church, the people I craft with, volunteer with, my nail tech, etc. but I wouldn’t count them as people I could call about anything. They're my "in person" people, yet not the people I'm closest to. So that’s the crazy thing.
This industry has a reputation as back-biting and scrabbling to the top business. I guess, in part, that’s how it is for some people. They do whatever they have to do to get on top. For the most part, however, the writers I know are good people who go out of their way for others. I would give my left kidney to most of them if they needed it. They are just that special and close to me.
How could they be so close? Some of my writer friends I’ve never met. Many, I have met yet I only see every few years or once a year or every few months. A lot of people don’t get it, but this electronic age has made it completely possible to have close connections with people far away. Three of my best friends live in other states. My bestie lives hours away, on the other side of my state. We all started with this common bond, this writing thing, but we each know we could turn to the others about just about anything.
Who else would completely understand any of these:
“I’m late for an appointment, I haven’t showered or eaten yet today, and I’m wondering do you think Max should use a flogger or his hand.”
“I’ve written so much today that I’m calling you rather than texting because my fingers are too tired to type any more…”
“I told my characters no more music until they start talking.”
“If someone says I’m playing on the computer one more time…!”
“My muse says…”
“So…I’m thinking, is it feasible that a vampire would choose to take the train to Kansas when he has the ability to fly and could be there in ten minutes?”
“I think I’m in the wrong POV and I don’t have enough GMC and I have to add ECIF or the mmf doesn’t work. I’m just afraid I’m not going to get to the HEA. I’m repping all over the place, and my heroine just turned TSTL.”
My friends understand that if they haven’t heard from me for days, I’m not avoiding them. I’m being held captive by fictional people and since some of them have whips or breathe fire, I really need to listen to them. Escape is sometimes difficult. My friends don’t sigh at me like other people, i.e. family members. They just gently tell me that I might want to get some sleep, that two hours isn’t enough.
They’re good people. They keep me going and they make me smile. I’m there for them and they’re there for me.
Always. And forever. HEA.