Anything that we fully do is an alone journey. No matter how happy your friends may be for you, how much they support you, you can’t expect anyone to match the intensity of your emotions or to completely understand what you went through. This is not sour grapes. You are alone when you write a book. Accept that and take in any love and support that is given to you, but don’t have expectations of how it is supposed to be.Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, p. 170.
People frequently mention the importance of community for writers: writing critique groups, conferences, social media connections. Writing is necessarily a solitary act, and community can be a valuable antidote for despair and self-absorption–neither of which are conducive to good writing.
Community is important. But so is the solitude. Being alone is not only necessary for writers, it can be comforting.
There’s a particular kind of joy in being alone. There’s freedom. An expansiveness. A wholeness, even. Only you can completely know yourself, the sheer totality of your existence, all the bits and pieces that comprise you. This deeply rooted authenticity is a sort of sanctuary. When alone, you can exist in a place without masks. Beyond the anxiety and the loneliness there is something liberating and protective:
I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.Kahlil Gibran, The Madman
That is one of my all-time favorite quotes. I always want to be understood, more than I think I want almost anything else in the world. I suppose that’s why I write too. And yet, in my ongoing struggle to be understood, I sometimes lose my perspective. I lose myself. Maybe I don’t have to strive to be understood, maybe if I found acceptance in the way things are, I might feel my throat open up. My words might feel lighter, more natural. And I would be closer to saying exactly what I need to say.