Largely this is a class thing – writers tend to be cosseted little middle-class kiddies who think that the world owes them a royalty cheque. But just doing it – being in your room for years on end locked in your head alone with invented ghosts – it weakens and softens the body. And I know I can't just live in my head.
I can work myself up into a fearful paralyzing state of mind that can last for days weeks even months where I feel mad totally isolated and alone overwhelmed and completely out of control.
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Both my husband and I give a lot of ourselves in what we do because that is our public lives but in my private life I have an intrinsic right to be left alone.
