It’s been a long night, but I thought I’d do a quick post on a strange type of inspiration, at least for an introvert like myself.
What, you’ve met me and you don’t believe that I’m an introvert?
You do realize that I spend 80% of my time completely alone, without interacting with another human being? And I like it that way?
The only reason I can be as outgoing as I am in public is because I do get to spend as much time alone as I do.
Plus, the fact that I’m not shy. (Being introverted =/= as being shy.)
Anyway — that inspiration.
Going to a writing convention. (I’m currently at Orycon.)
I know, I know. You don’t like people. Neither do I.
But being around large groups of writers is somehow inspiring. Being able to talk with people about craft, about plot, about this crazy story idea of a young Johnny Cash as a street preacher in New Orleans–those kinds of things.
It makes me want to go write. Not just because I need to get away from all the people and noise and such. But because they have ideas and I have ideas and we spark and fizzle together.
So try it sometime. Go out. Sit in a bar. Talk to the heathens. See if they don’t spark an idea or two.