I’m a writer. I used to hate other writers. I hated them for their talent and success and general snottiness. I hated them for not being a pile of twisted mental. Why was it so easy for them and so hard for me?
Obviously this attitude was delusional. I knew that, but still couldn’t shake it. I think that’s one reason all my favorite writers were dead people. Hard to feel competitive with a corpse.
I wish I could say that I had a great epiphany and now I love all in the literary world. Not true. It took years of apathy and erosion of will. I learned over the years to get over myself.
The final straw in this attitude was the stripping away of a long-held prejudice, the daily prompt. I always considered people who needed prompts as hacks. You need to write from within.
Then I started reading some of what these people were writing. Turns out Twitter is good for something after all. It also turns out that I really liked a lot of what I was reading. So I jumped on the bandwagon. I’m having fun, but more importantly, I’m meeting writers that I like. Yes, it’s only Twitter following right now, but it has opened me up to actually being, “sociable.”