The life of a writer is solitary for the most part. Even if you have an office it serves one. You don’t get to have lunch with the office crew. You don’t get Christmas parties or birthday cupcakes. It is just you and your chosen method of writing whether that be by pen and paper or computer.
The social aspect that comes with working in a job with fellow coworkers can’t be reproduced in your office at home. If I had my way, all the writers I know would live in a 25 mile radius of me. They could come visit and write without us saying a single word to each other. It wouldn’t be required. Just the sheer presence of someone else would be worth it. The distractions are there. Within my reach is my fridge, TV, the internet and a host of other things that can preoccupy my mind as I work on any present WIP. One has to stay focus and prioritize when you work in an office of one. Things that might not get in my way if I had regular hours and an office space outside the home.
The solitude can be hard when humans are deemed social creatures. It does not always hit me as I tend to stay busy so my mind does not have time to think. Though there are those days, few thankfully, that I sit back in my chair and wish my office had a larger staff. Someone I could go talk to for thoughts, ideas and just general chit-chat.
Thankfully my characters draw me in as they beg for me to come play with them. How they want me to come and explore what is on the next page. They are always there for me during the good and bad times. I guess in their own right they are my coworkers sitting right there next to me waiting to talk.