I am motivated, in part, by my own ambition. But it turns out I’m also motivated by a group of bloggers who really want to be on two-week residencies, but aren’t, and so will each individually fly to [location redacted] and murder me if I don’t get any writing done. You guys are a vicious lot, but I love you.
One of the residents here is 24. She asked me and another writer how we balanced work, writing, and the rest of life. We looked at each other, broke out laughing, and said “we don’t.” Something is always neglected.
I don’t miss DP. We were at the end of the summer where neither of us were working outside the home. We were getting in each other’s hair and on each other’s nerves. I’m glad to have physical solitude in my rooms, and this profound emotional privacy. My only responsibility is to my work. Today I had my first small sharp pain of loneliness. I wouldn’t want to live like this forever.