There are times in a writer's career when it is silent.
Very silent.
Too silent.
The only sound is the clacking of keyboards or the scratching of pens. No other noise is heard.
It is the quiet while you wait to hear back from beta-readers, agents, editors. It is the waiting for feedback or reviews. It is the checking of one's email to reveal no new messages. It is the lack of comments on one's blog, the dearth of replies on Twitter, the absence of pingbacks on Pinterest.
If an author sits really still, one can completely believe that there is no other soul out there. It is an overwhelming sense of isolation.
Even today, the lonely garret still exists.
Do a writer a favour and go tell them something--anything--positive about their career. Sometimes we need to know we're not working in complete solitude.
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Her Grace can't hear crickets. How odd. One would expect at least the creaking of the glacier that is publishing.
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