Sorry for being out of touch

This is not a “sorry for not blogging” post, because I swore I’d never write one of those. It is, however, a “sorry for not talking to you lately” post to my friends and family. I’m not depressed or withdrawn, but for some reason I’ve been feeling lately the need for solitude. I don’t know why. All I know is that for the last few weeks whenever I’ve seen anybody, there’s a part of me that’s felt like I was distracting myself from something I need to do.

In my case, this need for solitude has also extended to Facebook and this blog. I’ve been posting less and the quality of my posts has also gone down. Sorry about that! It’s just something that had to be done. I can’t say that I’ve been necessarily on a roll with my writing. I’ve been trying to work on a novel, and I’ve thrown out tens of thousands of words in this time. Today I wrote five thousand words, and I’m almost positive that tomorrow I’ll wake up and realize they weren’t quite right.

And yet…in the past I’ve posted on here, I know, that I was missing the sense of longing that needs to power all fiction. “The heart of longing” is what I called it. And right now I have that! For some weird reason–and this has never happened to me before–I’ve caught hold of the heart of longing, but not of anything else. I don’t have a character or a story, all I have is pure and unadulterated longing. Now, trying to stuff this longing into a novel has proven to be very difficult, but I feel like I am closer to getting it right than I have been in years.

And for me, for right now, staying away from other people has proven to be the best way to keep hold of this feeling. So that’s where I’m at.

4 thoughts on “Sorry for being out of touch

  1. Hemingway

    When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

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