Most writers I know are introverts. They either write in total isolation or in a crowded place where they tune out what’s around them and dive into the world they’re creating. When they’re not writing, most go to day jobs, have friends, volunteer.
They don’t hole up in a cave.
When I moved to a new city, I gave in to old reclusive tendencies. I say this because seven years ago my husband had a stroke while on vacation and acquired a slew of specialists. Instead of going back to the town where we’d lived for nearly twenty-five years, we stayed, bought a house, and became—dare I say it—antisocial.
In my situation, reclusiveness is also laziness. It’s so much easier to do stuff in the house than joining clubs and making new friends. The pandemic didn’t help. I learned I liked ordering groceries online and having them delivered, or if I didn’t want to cook, all our favorite restaurants are on Door Dash or Uber Eats.
It’s nice that my spouse and I are comfortable with each other. We’re both book worms, foodies, and now quite sedentary. We leave the house once a day to go for a walk where there’s pavement and a flat surface (we live on a hill). I visit with our immediate neighbors over fences and use social media to keep up with the friends we let behind.
But we don’t join and we don’t mix and while we now have family here, we’re still pretty much homebodies, and according to psychologists, that’s not a good thing.
So this year I will take a baby step and join something. The area where we live has a clubhouse, gym, restaurant, two swimming pools, and a gazillion special interest clubs. But that’s a giant step (strangers) so I’ll start with a group in my comfort zone that doesn’t require a lot of participation, but offers opportunities to relieve isolation. A small group of writers I know slightly are going to try to meet quarterly. They’re having a “catch up potluck” and I said I’d go.
If I don’t don’t find an excuse to reneg at the last minute.
It’s odd that the shy kid who forced herself into careers that required interaction with people, has—in retirement— once again reverted to her introvert roots. But it’s a new year. Time for a change, right?
About that: I said I’d tell you when I set new goals for 2023, because I didn’t accomplish any of my New Year’s resolutions for 2022. Well, I didn’t set any. So one or two for 2024 might be doable. We’ll see. Did you set any for the new year? Did you accomplish any in 2023?
I’m all ears (or eyes, in this case).
By the way, you can still find me in these places: