It’s not that you dislike people.
You’re just… more cool with there being less of them around you, right this second. It drains your energy fast, and you need to be alone to recharge.
All that noise, and talking, and distraction… how’s a hopelessly withdrawn creative ever supposed to get any work done? Especially if you just want to work all day, every day, on your creative addiction projects?
People are talking to you, asking things of you, and constantly breaking off your strings of ideas when you’re in total creative flow, and you’re in absolute bliss and nothing else matters in the universe. People keep snapping you out of it, for something that’s totally not the most important thing in the universe.
When, for a minute, you’d built your entire world around what you were creating right now, and some distraction shatters that world… it’s painful. It really is mentally painful. Like starting a fire, finally… only for the wind to keep blowing it out. Or growing a flower, to see it trodden on. Best of all, no one gets just how maddening that is for you. Well, it’s only a fire. Just make another.
So, you do. And you know what’ll happen again when you try.
Sometimes you have to stop yourself screaming in frustration. And one day, maybe a thought occurs. Maybe you’ve thought it every day of your life.
There has to be another way. Something easier than this.
Your body’s telling you something. You need to work for yourself, in your own space, on your own projects. It’s the only thing that’ll stop you going insane.
Thankfully, now, we have the interwebs. You can do any kind of work you want to do. So make a plan, and go and do it. Even working towards it, while everyone else is asleep, could relieve that tense knotted mass that’s been building up inside you. It’s the only thing that’ll start to unravel it, and let you breathe.
Seriously: work for yourself. Make it work, somehow. You’ll have a happier life.
I mean, it’s not like you want to be completely isolated. Just… mostly isolated. You really, truly enjoy people’s company, in short bursts. Usually one-on-one, or in very small groups. Think of all the abstract ideas you could unpack and dissect together. Together you could put the world to rights, just like you always do when the conversation’s really going places.
And then… hole back up in your studio. Go back to your work. Your own work, that matters to you more than anything else.
See, I know exactly what kind of words you really like. Studio. Coffee. Solitude. Beach. Long walk. Idea board. Scraps. Admit it: you’re an introvert. A creative. So be that. Full-time.
Whatever it takes to get your ideas off the ground and earn a living for yourself, go and do that thing. Do it right this second, and make a plan, and keep at it every hour that you’re not at work. Take it from me, that it’s worth it. For creatives like you and me, it’s like getting up there to the pearly gates.
You’re the kind to work hard no matter what. At least make it the kind of work that’ll give you an enjoyable life. You deserve that as much as anyone else – so be good to yourself.
Now. Work out how much money you need to make for a year off, and make it. And repeat. Whatever it takes to buy back your time, and spend it on your own creations.