I’m literally a “writer in residence”. It’s certainly a challenge to write about or draw inspiration from the local art scene while distant from it, but I often find it challenging to be around people. So in a weird way, this works for me.
Emily Dickinson managed to write almost 1800 poems as a recluse, and still managed to write in a way that was tangible and with empathy. Anyone familiar with a Kelsey Harris poem knows, I’m no Emily Dickinson. However, I can relate to thriving in seclusion. Solitude, for me, is nearly a basic need. To be candid, sometimes in an unhealthy way.
My heart goes out to people who are extroverts, during this time. People can be very dismissive, because on the surface our extrovert friends seem gregarious and outgoing, usually optimistic. This is a dangerous time for them. Many extroverts thrive on social interaction and human touch, the same way I avoid it at all costs. A lot of the people you know who would otherwise seem high spirited, may be on the cusp of depression.
In fear of rambling, I’ll end this first blog post by saying thank you. I can be doom and gloom, but I promise to do my best as “in residence” Writer In Residence. And please check in on your extrovert friends.