Writing is not a team sport, I mean unless you’re Glenn Beck and you wanna pay a mess of other people to write a shitty thriller and then you get some publishing house to sell its soul and push the thing out because they know all your dittohead radio lemmings are gonna run out and buy it in case it has the secret poster code to another diabolical liberal threat to the republic. Then maybe it’s a team sport. But most of the rest of us, we work alone.
And I think most of the rest of us are OK with that. I think we tend to be introverted. Or maybe I shouldn’t generalize, I don’t know. But personally, I often find other people enervating. I mean I enjoy a little company as much as the next guy, but after a few hours of socializing, I tend to get withdrawn, get a little grumpy, I start looking at the door. I VANT TO BE ALONE!
Except when it comes to hanging with other writers. Up until Bouchercon last year, I really didn’t know any. Thankfully, crime uber agent Stacia Decker pretty much bent my arm up behind my back and frog marched me down there. And hey, these people were fun. These people talked about shit I cared about. And when they weren’t talking about that, when they were talking about other stuff like, oh, I dunno, necrophilia, at least they were articulate and witty and just a fucking hoot.
So when I can, I want to spend more time with writers.
On Wednesday, I had a couple over to dinner. Fellow Team Decker members Joelle Charbonneau and Barna Donovan stopped by. I fed them Baconsagna. We drank stuff. We talked for hours (maybe I was boring them, I don’t care). Joelle filled us in on plans for her upcoming release, Skating Around the Law. (Want to listen to an interview with Joelle?) Barna shared tales of academia and his pretty cool sounding WIP. And when they left, I didn’t want to be alone, I wished they could stay.
So thanks for stopping by guys. Any other Chicago area writers out there? I want to do this again, soon.