Today, I met My Fight to Write for lunch.
He arrived from Australia in the nick of time.
The other night I went out for dinner with Rotation and Balance.
I’m trying to arrange a dinner with LA Nuts.
Oh, and I spoke with Bentlily on the phone yesterday.
And if I haven’t heard from Life According to Mel Heth in awhile, I start to get concerned.
What all this means is that without realizing it until now, I have managed to created a little blog community for myself. A group of people that I can chat with about writing and creativity or ask deep questions like “WTF am I going to blog about today?!” These are the people who come to my site to check in with what I’m doing with my day, to check my state of mental health and to just leave a comment or two because they can and they care.
Bloggers understand that comments are the fuel that keeps this machine running. Otherwise we’d be like midnight DJs asking out to the world, “Is anybody out there?”
Back in the old days, writers would congregate in bookstores like Shakespeare and Company:
This bookstore is smack dab in the middle of Paris and was once the gathering place for literary big wigs like Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce and Ezra Pound. I like to imagine them sitting outside on the benches smoking cigarettes, talking trash about their agents and commiserating about much the publishing company is not doing to promote their latest work.
Cut to today. We aren’t smoking or sitting outside bookstores. We are sitting in solitude in front of our computers drinking legal addictive stimulants and wishing we had agents and problems with publishing companies.
But at least, thanks to the Information Super Highway, we are sitting in solitude together.
And that’s a nice thought.