Understanding Your Introverted Female Writer Friend

We're the ones that you can't fully comprehend.  Why in the name of all things holy would we decline a Saturday night party in favor of sitting at home with microwave popcorn and Netflix?  

Because people exhaust us, generally.  And because we prefer the ones living inside our own heads.

We are the ones driving to and from work, or school, or the grocery store, listening to the radio and applying the songs to scenes in the movie-versions of our manuscripts.  

We work out and choreograph fight scenes in our mind.

We have the capacity to be incredibly kind and conversational to the cashier at Target but only for like four minutes and then we want to be done with people.

We remember you as you were when you inspired us to create a character based on you.  Not how you are today.  Which may be very, very different.

We think about writing fanfic, or we have written fanfic, and we wonder if it damages our ability to be taken seriously as writers.

We see ads in fashion magazines and create entire backstories for the people featured in the images.

We play dress-up in the mirror, carefully applying lipstick we may never wear in public, to get into our characters' heads.

We sometimes loathe selfies but we hope that ours - the ones we do take - make us look both pretty and pensive.  Smart is sexy.

We're in multiple fandoms and we do not take issue with people who like both "Star Trek" and "Star Wars" but for God's sake, people, don't confuse one with the other.

When we are not actively working on a story, we are dreaming up situations for our characters, playing with their histories and their futures.  We are listening to playlists we have created for them, trying to get to know them well enough to do them justice in print.

We like coffee.  And cats.

If you give us coffee and cats, we might put you in a book.

As a nice person.  Like, the hero.









...or maybe this is all just me.

In Search of: BFFL

In high school, I had a bestie.  Her name was Christin, and we loved science fiction and Indiana Jones and comic books and I never felt like it was weird to be a nerd when I was with her.  We wrote fanfic before fanfic was even called fanfic, and we were inseparable.

Then college happened.  We went to different schools, had different majors, and drifted apart.  It might have been a good thing, if only for the fact that I wanted to reinvent myself (like many of us do) in college.  

"Reinvention" didn't amount to much.  I was still a chubby white girl with a geek streak, but I dressed a little more stylishly and figured out what to do with my long, wavy hair (product, product, PRODUUUUUUCT).  Still conservative, although less so, being among theatre people.  Still didn't drink.  Still didn't have sex.  Still got good grades.  I had a good circle of nerdy pals, though, being a double major in English and Theatre Performance.  Few of them really "got" me, though, because another large part of my identity was and is my faith, and most of them didn't understand or share that.  

I maintain (mostly online) friendships with a lot of my college buddies.  Some, I've become closer to.  Some, I respect more because of the way they have handled life's challenges since entering "the real world".  We've all grown a great deal since then, through marriages, careers, parenthood, divorce, losing family members, facing illness, financial troubles.  Frequently, I feel more connected to them now than I did back then.

After college came work, which, for me, was Starbucks.  I think it's safe to say that I've stayed closer with my former co-workers from the coffee shop than from any other part of my life (the exception being church).  I still see many of them fairly regularly, and I feel like I learned more about life from working there than I did anywhere else.  I learned about constructive criticism, customer service, finances, kindness.  I learned about prejudice and bias (yes, believe it or not I was on the receiving end of it more than once).  I learned about responsibility.  Leading others.  Time management.

And I learned that Colombian coffee is totally my fave.

In my group of friends, the ones who are most like me, at this point in my life, are those I met at South Hills Assembly's young adults group, The Bridge.  Through associations with the people there, I ended up meeting the man I eventually married.  I met like-minded people who are now parents, to whom I often turn to for advice.  These people, like me, sometimes struggle to reconcile their faith with the craziness in the world.  But we don't see each other that often.  We all go to different churches now, and some of us work. Most of us have moved away from the ten-mile radius in which we all used to live.  It's not easy to pack up kids and haul them to visit friends.  I'm not a phone person; I'd much rather text or meet in person.  It gets sort of lonely.  Even with a nearby and supportive family and extended church family, it does get lonely.

As an introvert, I'm generally happy to be by myself.  My hobbies are usually solo pursuits - writing, reading, sketching.  But spending all day entertaining a very curious baby can be exhausting, even if he IS a generally easy-going little guy.  It's isolating.  But it's a catch-22 for me, because meeting new people is equally exhausting.  (Especially since people THINK I'm an extrovert and miss my nonverbals that day "please - I need to go be alone right now!")  But when something amazing happens to me - or when I just need to vent, or get advice, I've realized - there's no one "go-to" person I contact.  Other than family.

I realized I don't have a best friend.

I do have friends.  They are wonderful.  My step-sister is incredible and mature and wise.  My stylist Jaime is an awesome mom and energetic adventurer.  My former co-worker Jordan is an outgoing, brilliantly confident woman and mother.  There are more, of course.  I have friends at church, too, but very few in my age bracket and family situation.  (That is to say, there are a lot of women with whom I am close, but very few are young moms/wives.)  They have supported me through struggles and celebrated with me during victories.  Maybe I don't need just one best friend.

But then I see those "bestie" posts on Buzzfeed and Pinterest and I'm all like, "I want that."

But then I see the pictures of doughnuts and bay windows and tabby kittens and retro-styled kitchens and I'm like, "I want that, too."

Best friend or freshly-baked cruller.  Which do I want more?  

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Embracing Introversion

I posted earlier this month on Facebook about the liberating realization that I am, in fact, an introvert.  I wanted to expound on that a little, because it has really, really made a difference in the way I see myself.

As a child and teenager, I was a great student, had a few good friends, and generally kept to myself.  I liked writing and reading.  I liked drawing.  I found that I liked singing and acting as well, and I did these things as often as I could, participating in school musicals and choosing chorus as my elective.  I was definitely counted among the “geeks”, as my best friends and I were far more likely to have a Star wars role-playing session than ever get invited to – or accept an invitation to – any party.  I never drank.  Ever.  Never wanted to.  Was never asked out on a date, which wasn’t surprising.  I was not particularly self-confident, nor was I considered popular or particularly pretty at the time (now, apparently geek girls are often treasured and coveted; I guess I was born a decade too early).  College wasn’t that different.  I still didn’t drink, but I did go to some parties with fellow music and theatre majors (frankly, it took quite a lot for me to build up to that point).  I slowly gained a little more confidence as I made my way through college, mostly via successful theatrical performances.

I had always assumed that, because I am comfortable directing, speaking, and performing before a crowd, that I was an introvert.  I’m fairly personable and have always been told by friends and employers that I’m “cheerful”, “energetic”, and “bubbly”.  I assumed that only extroverts possessed those traits and therefore, I certainly was one.  After college, several things changed in my life.  I got serious about my faith – and I lost a lot of weight.  The two together, I think, were a big boost to my self-esteem.  I began to understand that God loved me – really loved me – no matter what.  I also began to like the way I looked because I was taking care of my body.  Although I still dealt, sometimes, with body image issues (and, to be honest, they still creep up every now and then, years later), I was generally a happy person.  I led a Bible study.  I sang on the worship team.  I attended a young adults group at a local church.  I spent time with friends.  I began working with the children and youth in our church.  I liked it.

From thomerama.tumblr.com.

This past month, like probably thousands of others, I posted daily about things for which I was thankful.  Most days, I had no trouble at all.  I was thankful for a wonderful, loving husband; a great family; a supportive church; a good job; a working vehicle.  Some days, I became more introspective and thoughtful. At one point, I saw something on Pinterest that caught my eye, and decided that I would retake the Briggs-Meyer personality test I’d taken quite some time ago.  My result was INFP – The Dreamer.  (You sci-fi geeks may recognize INFP traits in characters like Luke Skywalker and Frodo Baggins.  The reluctant hero.  The moral one.  The goodie-goodie. The one plucked from a simple, secluded life and dragged into a world much bigger than himself.)  At once, I felt a rush of relief.

I’m an introvert. 

It turned my world upside-down, in the best possible way.

I used to beat myself up because I never really liked parties.  I thought there was something wrong with me because I generally tried to avoid social situations involving more than maybe four or five other people.  I preferred quiet evenings alone or with my husband to any kind of meet’n’greets or mixer events.  I get tongue-tied around people I greatly admire.  I express myself best through writing.  I generally prefer spending time with friends and family over meeting new people.  I thought I had a social anxiety disorder.  Or maybe a self-esteem problem.  But I don’t. 

I’m this way because I’m an introvert.

My “outgoing” hobbies of performance and public speaking are not limited to extroverts alone.  That would be like saying that extroverts are never good writers or never think philosophically.  I didn’t realize that at first.   I used to wonder what was wrong with me because I was great in front of a crowd, but hating being in a crowd.  I wondered if I was somehow less of a person because I needed more “recharge” time than others.

Nothing is wrong with me.  I’m an introvert.

It doesn’t mean I’m not sassy.  It doesn’t mean I’m not passionate and vocal about a lot of things.  It doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.  It doesn’t mean that I’m afraid of people, or that I hate them.  It also doesn’t mean that I hate myself.  I had a fairly high extrovert quotient, too, which I cannot deny.  But it was such a relief to realize that I’m not a failure as a human being.  Granted, having the “diagnosis” of introversion doesn’t allow me to shun social responsibilities.  I still have to do things I’m not terribly fond of.  I have to leave my house, when I’d rather finish reading a novel, curled up with my cats.  I have to talk to people sometimes, instead of, well…talking to my cats.

I don’t want it to sound as though I’m agoraphobic, or that I’m petrified to show my face in public, or that I hold other  people in disdain.  That’s not the case at all.  I love spending time with friends, and I do like people.  I just handle them best – and I’m at my best – in small doses. 

That revelation – and the acceptance of it - has made such a difference in the way I see myself.  Now, I’m not all about personality tests defining who we are.  We can make the mistake of applying the results to ourselves like labels with permanent adhesive, never allowing ourselves to move beyond a certain type or identity.  That’s not a good thing.  Personality-type tests should be a starting point, or for entertainment  – not a final verdict.  For me, it was a refreshing realization that there isn’t anything wrong with me. 

Although maybe I should hold off on collecting any more cats for the time being.

Or maybe just ask Santa for a self-cleaning litter box.  So I can get more cats.