Getting the Introverted Writer to talk

Once upon a time, writing was an Introvert’s sport.

Imagine the life. You sit at home surrounded by nothing but books and Nova VHS tapes and coffee, and you don’t talk to a single person for two days straight because you are writing. It’s just you and your thoughts conversing and arguing a story out onto paper. Ah, sweet blissful Paradise.

Fast-forward to the present, a disturbing time zone in which we’ve managed to ignore every goddamn warning from George Orwell and Ray Bradbury.

Today if you are a writer, you do some writing on your next book—between phone calls with several publicists; writing up a sales blurb that’s supposed to sell your soul; talking about your personal life to Tom, Dick, and Henrietta; contacting the local newspaper; setting up book-signing engagements during which you’ll have to “mingle;” and then writing a blog about it all—or, worse, about NOTHING at all.

Are you feeling the terror shivering down into your bones like I am?

I realize a lot of people think this is bizarre, but I don’t like “talking” about my writing work to random strangers. For me, writing is personal, and if you don’t plan on being involved in my life for the next year, then don’t be shocked that I make growly noises when you want me to tell you in sixty seconds about the years of emotional hell I went through to bleed this fucking book out. Make sense? Of course not. Unless you’re an Introvert too. Then maybe.

Not that I don’t ever want to discuss my work. Because I do. In the right setting. Here’s where the world of the Internet comes in handy for us Introverts. I can spend an entire day thinking about a response to an emailed question—in my own time so I don’t feel rushed and flustered, without worrying about the fact that I’m in my pajamas or that I’ve got a zit on my neck or that I’ve nicked myself while shaving, or feeling awkward because there were ten seconds of silence while I tried to think of a conversation filler while my questioner looked around for someone else to talk to.

So, if I ever run into you at a social event (hey, it happens), please don’t ask me “how’s the writing going?” Because I will say, “Great, thanks. Excuse me for a second so I can go grab myself a gallon of vodka before I continue this conversation.” (But don’t trust me on that. I won’t actually continue the conversation. A gallon of vodka isn’t good for anything other than taking a long nap under the table.)

Instead, let’s talk about you, about the incredible vacation you just took, about the nearest museum, about the last book you read. And if my writing happens to come up in friendly conversation (maybe wait till I’ve finished half of my Old Fashioned), then we’ll get along just fine.

 
 
(image by Leonid Pasternak)