I’m always been interested by authors who co-write, because it’s something I can’t imagine doing. I don’t think I could give up the level of control needed to collaborate, even though collaboration can be incredibly inspiring. Writing feels like a solitary pursuit, and if it were a full time job (oh far, far distant goal!), I don’t doubt that I’d find it a lonely one as well. For me, writing is vocational; something I always have done and always will do, whether as a professional career, for friends and family, or only for myself. When I write, I put a piece of myself on the page. You can call it heart, soul, worldview – but it’s both the creation and reflection of a certain period of my life, be that a week or five years. Writing is a way of reaching out, searching for people who share a way of thinking, a way of perceiving and understanding the world. The process of writing is solitary, but it’s ultimately about connection. And of course, when you do find someone who connects with what you write, that’s amazing.
Producing work I feel is worthy of being read, however, is inevitably a long road of self-doubt and self-critique. I have moments of believing I’ve written something amazing and moments of believing it’s utterly diabolical. Often those thoughts are about the exact same paragraph. So writers may be lone wolves, but we need perspective. We need someone to say: ‘You know what? That’s okay. That’s working.’ And occasionally: ‘That, my friend, is really not working.’ Willing friends help: my go-to lady is the marvellous Clare Bullock, who has cast an eye over various works-in-progress for me over the years, and invariably offers sound editorial advice. But there’s only so much feedback you can ask for, and the other thing I find useful is workshops.
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