I WONDER how many writers were initially inspired by loneliness. That’s not to say all writers are necessarily lonely, but perhaps many of us were in our inception as word-churners?
The origins of my motivation to write are easy to pinpoint. Loneliness was and is key. I have certain characters in my head that I’ll always know more intimately than any real human. These characters have been around a long, long time. Humans? Humans tend to come and go.
I don’t blame the humans. I’m not an easy person to tolerate by any stretch of the imagination. Annoyingly cheerful one minute, casting a dark cloud over the day the next. I’m reactionary–sometimes for the better, often for the worse. I’m sometimes seen as over-confident, but in the same minute someone else will talk to me like I’m a child. I can be brash, I can be crass, and sometimes I can just be an ass.
But these characters can’t leave me, for my brain is a prison, and there is no escape.