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singledom and writing.

September 2, 2010

i guess i have been circling around the theme of singledom lately. (CUE DARK AND THREATENING MUSIC, something akin to the Imperial March) actually, i honestly think that this whole blog post might be better listening to that song on loop for the whole thing. really. just listen to it while you read. and if you get sick of this one, you can listen to this one. it’s longer, too! on a sidenote, i may have these songs on vinyl. i should check that.

sometimes i am urged from people to make more of an effort when it comes to meeting men. sorry – straight men. straight, single men. that should be clarified. i guess it is true that i do have pretty high standards. there are some odd traits that i like men to have (long blond hair being a particularly odd one that has been kicking around lately). i like men to be incredibly open minded, not at all homophobic, resilient, willing to dance at a moment’s notice, etc. this is rather hard to find. i guess i’m also not making an incredible effort. i find that, as a writer, i tend to rabbit myself away behind a computer screen (or notebook) and write out my frustrations/loneliness rather than go out to try and rectify it.

am i hiding behind my writing as an excuse?

there are sometimes that i just get really, really upset and fed up with the dating scene, and, to be honest, it is the thought of my characters that pulls me through. there is something calming and soothing about having people waiting for you. i guess that sounds kind of odd and scary, as though i have a weird little homemade doll collection. i guess, in a way, i do. i have these amazing, complex, beautiful characters that i have created, that i have shaped, and nothing – nothing – will ever take that away from me. nothing can. they are one of the only constants in my life, alongside change. i’m not sure if that sounds melodramatic or what, but to me it is the truth.

truth time – there are moments when you, as a human, as a woman, as a wanter, are sobbing because you are lonely or you have been rejected again, or the rain is just really getting to you, or something equally distressing has happened. i’m sure that a lot of us have been in that situation. i have. i know what it’s like to sit on your kitchen floor at 2 AM and cry. but i always always always feel better when i remember my stories. my people lie waiting for me in the corners of my room, you see. they might be two dimensional for the time being but they lie their hands across my forehead as i lie in bed. they rest their chins on my shoulder as i type. it’s a safety net, and a propellant all at the same time.

do other writers feel this way? i don’t know. there is always a place in my characters that i can call home.

do i write better because i’m single? am i more focused on what lies before me? am i less distracted? can i spend longer days hunched over in the library, clicking my nails across the keyboard? i don’t know. i don’t know if true love would put the tongues of flame in my fingers and push me to a new and more beautiful level of writing, or if i would shy away from my writing if i were so head over heels. there is no way of knowing this.

at some point i will step out from behind the screen. for the moment, i have people who need me waiting, waving at me from behind Times New Roman size 12 font.

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