ego

[taotie]

For the most part, I don't like to talking to or consorting with other writers. Not because I think there's nothing left for me to learn, or that I do not need "community," but that every writer thinks that their vision of the world is some rarefied and unique blessing that needs to be remarked upon as often as possible, an affliction from which I admit I am not spared. Regardless, this attitude flavors every interaction; the average writer scouts for some interpretation, insight, or expression that "lifts," that impresses the listener, that leaves some indelible memory upon the conversation so that its progenitor, when they settle down at home for the night, may consider planting some version of their words in a future story (an act that I, once again, am not exempt from). I much prefer talking to people who don't consider themselves to be much of a writer at all. Their words are much more forthright, honest. Even if they themself are not so much a forthright or honest person (in the way that we all, to some degree, try to present some favorable version of ourselves), I find their words to be less deceptive. Everyone apologizes to me, when they know that I'm a writer, that they can't express themselves eloquently, or with any pretty words. I don't think the apology is necessary. I think rather the reverse, that I should apologize, that I should stop trying to write essays into conversations, that my presence should demand some imposition on language at all.