Every writer will attest that the idea of writing is very different from actual writing. The idea of writing is romanticized—the pensive artist sitting by a window with pen in hand, ready to build a world out of whimsy or deconstruct the empires of the day, all with ink and spirit. Or, less imaginatively, people view authors as well-respected and engaged by some demographic, stitched into the centerpiece of an expressive community. In reality, writing is often a lonely calling. And that doesn't get talked about enough. As I've experienced this again and again over the years, it's become clearer to me what writers often need. It's not a bigger audience or some idealized version of success. They need that rare and remarkable gift: true friendship.

Why the Loneliness?

But first, why do writers feel alone so often? Here are a few reasons, among many others.

1. Writers read a lot. That may not seem like a cause of loneliness, but excessive readers are constant travelers. We're always going places inside ourselves or deep into the landscape of imagination. And with constant travel comes continuous solitude. We spend a lot of time by ourselves as we explore the thoughts and worlds of others. At the same time, that solitude isn't immediately isolating. It fills us with wonder, passion, joy, discovery, dreams. Inside, writers can feel like a seine net bursting with wild salmon, the ideas splashing in the white water. Something stirs inside us and swells to the edges. We feel as if we'll burst if we don't find someone to share the ideas with. And that's when the isolation sets in. There aren't often people around who are ready to listen (and that's no fault of theirs). And so we channel those ideas into more writing, which is just another way of traveling inside ourselves. Constant reading becomes constant writing; ceaseless travel means tireless bridge-building. And the whole cycle is easily isolating because we have too much bottled up inside. John Donne was right that no man is an island, but that doesn't mean we don't feel like islands.
2. We write for others. Anyone who tells you, "I just write for myself" is probably dishonest. There's the rare exception, but I've never encountered a writer who would be content to never know whether his or her words actually broke through the shell of another soul. We write to change things, to engage souls. And when we go through long spells of silence from readers (which is very common and frequent), we feel terribly lonely. It's not just that we want to be with others, since many of us can do this in our everyday lives with family and friends—an amazing gift in itself. Rather, it's that writers want others to join in the word-webs we've spun, to play on the threads and test the elasticity. Writing is an invitation for others to enter our worded worlds, an invitation to play. If the invitation goes unanswered, it's easy to feel overlooked or even invisible, regardless of whether that feeling is valid..
3. We write in order to foster change. We write to foster change, both in ourselves and in the world around us. That was the point Kenneth L. Pike made in his book Rhetoric: Discovery and Change. Whether it's by telling stories or exploring problems, writers want to change the world. When that change is impossible to see (and it usually is), it can feel a bit like being a child who builds a sand castle on an empty beach. Yes, the castle is a work of art, and it was a joy to create, and we loved the process. But has it changed anything? Is the world different now? Our blood burns for an answer.
4. There are too many voices. In the vast democracies of the modern West, writers can feel lonely simply because there are so many voices and so few impediments to publication. There are times when I feel like a robin on a city street bench—making unique notes that get swept away in the urban cacophony. So many voices, and so few ears. How will our voice ever fly above the din? 

The Gift of Friendship

If you know any writers in your life, they've likely dealt with some of this for a long time. So, what should they do? What should we do? 

It's tempting to help writers problem-solve. There are plenty of problems—building an email list, publishing broadly, garnering more readers, getting into social media (or ditching it altogether), finding publishers who won't just accept your work but celebrate it. Yes, plenty of problems. And it's no small blessing when experienced and more recognized writers help get smaller writers more attention. Karen Swallow Prior did this with a series of interviews (you can see mine HERE). That was an amazing act of kindness on her part, and a testament to her character.

But getting little attention is often not what truly isolates writers. It's not as if once writers attain one of their goals (such as acquiring more readers), they're free. There are always more goals. And satisfaction isn't so much a clear line as it is a fog that drifts up and down. There's no catching it. This is just as true for writers as it is for other professionals.

The gospel for writers is that relationships change the world, not isolated individuals.

What writers really need is friendship, despite the fact that, as introverts, they may very well run in the opposite direction. As C.S. Lewis famously put it in The Four Loves, friendship happens when someone stands next to you and stares through the same window onto the world. A friend is someone to whom you can say, "What? You too? I thought I was the only one." For Lewis, friends stand not face to face, but side by side, "absorbed in some common interest." They gaze into the distance at a shared referent. And this shared gaze is not just inspiring; it's consoling. It's a God-given antidote to loneliness. And, what's more, it tends to produce the sort of change that writers dream of. Lewis notes in the same chapter, "The little knots of friends who turn their backs on the 'world' are those who really transform it." Writers sometimes imagine that they will write something that changes the world. The gospel for writers is that relationships change the world, not isolated individuals. We need others in order to be the best of who we are.

Just consider how friendship challenges the causes of loneliness listed above.

1. Friends listen a lot. A good friend is a gracious and patient listener. They don't simply wait for their turn to speak; they focus on your words. They let you pause and gather yourself. They give you the space you need to be confused, enraptured, frustrated, overwhelmed, joyful, uncertain. Listening is a quiet rebellion against the din of distraction and the drum of self-centeredness.
2. Friends are your "others." Writers write in order to serve others, but friends are often the most candid and loving "others." They can be candid in telling us what no one else will, and they can be loving in the way that they tell us. You can certainly have friends who don't read what you write, and they can be a blessing in lots of other ways. But it's especially valuable to have friends who read the words you toil over. They see where your heart and mind have been traveling, and they might point out things you don't see—not just in your writing, but in your relationships and your life more broadly.
3. Friends help us change. For all the focus they put on changing the world, writers are in greater need of changing themselves. That is extremely difficult in isolation. God has many means of changing people, and one of those means is through friendships. Friends are not constant correctors or critics; they don't help us change by reminding us of all that we're doing wrong. Instead, they help us change by encouraging us to press onward as we stand shoulder to shoulder. Lewis said, "You will not find the warrior, the poet, the philosopher, or the Christian by staring in his eyes as if he were your mistress: better fight beside him, read with him, argue with him, pray with him." Friends help us change by standing next to us and reminding us what's worth fighting for. They pray for change with us, and they usher us forward.
4. Friends value a single voice. It's easy for writers to focus on all the ears that aren't taking in the words they voice. But a friend affirms there is always one set of ears that hears. Our voice, even as it chirps at whisper-level amidst a sea of sound, matters. And a friend reminds us that even the smallest of voices has meaning and makes an impact.

Bearing Witness to Another

The lonely side of writing won't likely go away. Writers will always battle it. What they need in the midst of it are friends—people who listen, engage, challenge, encourage, and rejoice, all while standing shoulder to shoulder with wordsmiths who need friendship more than they'd ever care to admit.

Listening is a quiet rebellion against the din of distraction and the drum of self-centeredness.

If you are friends with writers, remind them that you stand with them. And you aren't going anywhere. What people really want at their deepest level is to be seen, to be truly witnessed by another. So, I'll end with some of the most beautiful words on friendship that I've come across, from the poet David Whyte.

The ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self; the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone. (Consolations, 74)

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