I haven't been around people much over the past few years. Some days, I don't even see a car drive by. It's very quiet here and beautiful.
Sometimes it's lonely.
I'm beginning to dislike a lot of what I write. It's getting harder and harder to remember how life used to work when I was a part of things. Every character and conversation feels like a bad approximation of experiences I haven't been close to in almost a decade.
Maybe it's not something in the writing that's broken.
Experiences, passions, and hope are critical for every writer. Friendship and love are good things. These days, I talk to dogs mostly. I should leave my house and have a face to face conversation with a human being.
I bet it would make me sick or give me a headache.
That might make a good story.