Being Inlove

Being In Love With A Writer.

Over the years you’ll received a lot of emails… a lot of text messages that could maybe be turned into sonnets. You’ll see poems written about you (especially if you’re significant other/spouse is an Instapoet), maybe they’re not all full of love though. Some are full of broken-ness. Yours and theirs…Being in love with a writer, I think, is not always as romantic as it seems but is definitely a worthy and true love.


My husband used to get pretty concerned when he would see me crying over my laptop; sobbing over syllables that would rush out of my fingertips and into a word document but now he is quite used to it. Before, he would try to console me and I would say, “please, wait. I’m not done yet.” Now (after many years of practice) he waits patiently behind me; his presence known but he doesn’t interrupt me anymore…knowing that I will turn around face full of relief once every word is finally gone.


I’ve been writing my whole life and I’ve been with my husband all of my adult life so he has seen it all. He has seen how I scribble notes on anything and everything I can get my hands on, he has suffered through hour long trips to bookstores, sat in coffee shops where I am completely silent for hours lost in the worlds that I have created with my words…He has seen the tantrums and the meltdowns…he has seen the rejections and the wins. He has been with me through the phases of doubt and almost giving up…I’m very thankful for his constant presence because I don’t know if I could “life” without him happily.


So, what I’m saying is…when you love a writer, people try to make it seem very romantic, beautiful, sexy, etc…I’m not saying that there aren’t moments of that but I’m also saying that loving a writer is also messy. Especially if you fall in love with a writer like me…full of anxiety plus insane coffee habits.


I can’t speak for all writers but I know that I live in a world of my own sometimes, that I basically hide from everything when I have deadlines that I’m trying to meet, that I constantly talk to myself, drop everything to write down one sentence, that I become obsessive with my words, worlds, poems, books, to-do lists, etc…I’ve heard my husband call me both a Disney character and (lovingly) a mad woman and he isn’t wrong. There is a madness to writing that I can’t explain. Constantly slicing myself open to share the ugly, allowing it to heal, and then slicing it open again…


Writing is like cutting out your guts yourself and then arranging them beautifully onto a plate to serve to others…hoping that they will like it, think it’s delicious, and want more. It can be exhausting (mentally, emotionally, physically..) but there is so much passion and love behind every plate served that we just keep going and going (which is why you will find plenty of coffee cups lying around.)


Being in love with a writer takes understanding, patience, and unconditional love (just like any other relationship…plus some strong coffee if you really love them and yourself). You will most likely be woken up at weird hours in the middle of the night thanks to keys clicking, have to listen to in depth stories about imaginary people, and find your spouse sitting in the same spot for several hours lost behind a screen probably in desperate need of a shower but…you will be loved so deeply. The love letters you will receive are many… Stories of you will forever be written down and kept safely in parts of them that you might not ever even notice…We truly will make you immortal and probably also do some worshipping… 


Loving a writer is so beautiful, weird, magical, maddening, exciting, and if I do say so myself…one of the best kinds of love.