Writing Together, Even When We're Far Apart
On the value of community, whether IRL or online
Writing is a solitary pursuit, but it doesn’t have to be lonely.
After I moved back to the US from London, where my writing career began, I wrote in isolation for seven years, feeling the loss of my community like a missing piece of myself. I had no idea how to start over – I’d passively inherited my UK group from my master’s program, so I applied to an MFA program here in Washington to try to replicate that. I had no idea how I’d pay for it, so maybe it was lucky I never made it off the waitlist.
In my shame at failing not only myself but my recommenders, I retreated even further inside myself, surfacing periodically to complain about my loneliness to the non-writers in my life. They were sympathetic, but they couldn’t meet my needs: I craved engagement with other writers, for accountability and inspiration and understanding.
Then the pandemic hit, and amidst the collective international trauma of Covid’s physical and economic threats was a pearl of opportunity for people like me, living outside of major metropolitan areas: everything was suddenly virtual. I started devouring online classes and webinars, and in April, when my husband sent me Meredith’s tweet announcing her online workshops, I immediately signed up.
I rarely missed a workshop during those spring and summer months, and when Meredith sent out a call for volunteers in her newsletter I did something new for me: I swallowed my social cowardice and joined. I’ve never been much of a joiner – too afraid of rejection, too lazy, too insecure about my ability to add value – but that summer really ignited my desire to help and reinforced my inkling that I couldn’t just expect life to hand me a community. I had to put myself out there and ask for it.
The Fairest Writer community rewarded my efforts beyond expectation. Not only did I find new friends in Meredith and the other volunteer admins, but I got another opportunity to help when Vanessa suggested we start a series of Zoom writing sessions. (Were you wondering when I’d get to it? Fair enough. Brevity isn’t my strong suit.)
We began holding a writing space for an hour every month – a sort of virtual coffee shop where we could all meet, say hello, then get to work on our own projects, spurred on by each other’s presence. People showed up to work on screenplays, deadlines articles, grant proposals…whatever was plaguing them that they needed help prioritizing. As the sessions went on, we developed a steady group of attendees, many of whom expressed the value of the space and requested more time. So we gave it to them, in the form of two-hour sessions every other month; this month we’re doing two sessions, a one-hour and a two-hour.
But it wasn’t just the attendees who found value in the sessions. I love them too. I like the responsibility, the expectation that I’ll be in my home office, laptop open, ready to receive our group. Not only does it force me to make time for my own work, but it gives me the sense of community I craved for so long. I love seeing the regulars’ faces every month and getting to know new attendees as they come through. It’s an accountability practice, a motivation tool, but it’s also a balm for a lonely writer-heart.
So if you’ve been feeling isolated, even if you’re part of the Fairest community already but feel nervous about joining events, the writing sessions are a great place to start. You don’t have to turn your camera on, or even your mic; you can just lurk at the edge of our virtual table with your (hopefully real) coffee and we’ll smile encouragingly at you when you meet our eyes.
I hope to see you there, or somewhere else in the wider writing universe. Hang in there, friends!
<3 Anne