au revoir?

sometimes, you have a realization and it's terrifying.

i just had one of those.

i write.

i always have.

in recent years, i have written with the goal of writing books - books that i intended to query and pursue publication. there are 3 completed manuscripts housed within my scrivener software with one work in progress, and several starts and stops for other ideas. i write poems, short stream of consciousness kind of things, and the like.

several years ago, i joined twitter because i was in the middle of a supportive and glorious writing community filled with other writers i could trust for feedback, and who trusted me to provide feedback on their work. twitter was like an artery for me in this writing community - it kept us all connected, and it kept everyone in the loop of what everyone was doing.

the results of that writing community?

something like a dozen agented authors, maybe more, including the infamous el james (i'm admittedly not a fan), but also the ever lovely christina lauren. emma trevayne. alice clayton.

a largely talented bunch.

i'm about a third of the way through a manuscript now, 25K words of a project that's been plaguing me (in the best ways) since 2011.  it's thrilling to be finally in a place where i can make this story work when for four years, i couldn't make it work for the life of me (and believe me, i tried).

it feels remarkable. it is. save for one thing.

that writing community?

it no longer exists for me.

not really.

i won't get into that, but rest assured that it's true.

i write because i enjoy it, but also to improve. improvement is required.

nowhere good.

i can write. i can put words on paper and finish a project. that's never been an issue. without constructive criticism, where is a writer? nowhere good. without the ability read others' work for feedback and experience, where is a writer? nowhere good. without support and accountability from a network of this type, where is a writer?

and i am without any of the above.

i cried the other night when i realized that there was no reason for me to remain on twitter - not because i'm so attached to twitter, but because my writing community no longer exists. i've tried to regain it. no dice. life is life, people are busy, and it's just hard.

i never thought hopping off a social media train would be such a hard decision, but it is.

so there's that.

dichotomy

sometimes, things happen. tragic things. things that rip your heart open, drown you in sorrow for another human being, for your self. when those things happen, you don't know what to say; you couldn't. if you're smart, you keep quiet and simply offer a shoulder, an ear, a hand to hold. that support is what's really needed, and words will never suffice anyway.

sometimes, there's a modicum of guilt in your sorrow - because you haven't had to experience that tragic thing. because your life is evidence of the antithesis of the hell they're in the middle of. because you haven't lived that loss, that pain. it's not logical, this guilt, but it's there anyway. 

sometimes, all you can do is wish for peace and healing and hope. sometimes you wonder if people do the same for you. 

it's the natural ebb and flow of life - good and bad, growth and stagnation, birth and death, destruction and creation. and the rub of it all is that, though you know it's coming, though you know to expect it, there's not a damn thing anyone can do to prepare you when it comes. when it all rolls down hill at you and change is all around and maybe it's good but maybe it's bad, and maybe you can't get away from it, all you can do is roll with it. 

or maybe you dig your stake in the ground and try to stand tall in the midst of it all. 

which is worse? which is better? is there really an answer? 

it's hard to remember sometimes that those around you are fighting battles you've no knowledge about, that they are struggling with things you may never see. it's hard to care, because you have your own life, your own concerns, your own struggles. 

but we must. 

mustn't we?