The truth is out. Over here, at Mad Genius Club — Writers Division, Kate reveals what we’ve all long suspected. Writers are odd.
I think it is time we all embraced our inner eccentric.
My confession is that I can only take so much of being social, then I have to go away from people and be by myself. In fact, when my children were small, to be alone was the greatest luxury I could imagine. Now days I have time alone but I have so many responsibilities that, time without things pulling me in a dozen directions is the greatest of luxuries. I find conventions enjoyable, but exhausting. (Glutton for punishment, I’ve put myself down for Aussie Con 4).
Some days, the thought of running away to become a monk and living in a cell where someone shoves a plate of thin gruel under the door, looks very enticing.
Did you grow up watching other people trying to learn ‘the rules’ that everyone else seemed to know instinctively?
Do you watch the mass hysteria associated with football and car races with bemusement?
Do you watch the adulation of celebrities and wonder why no one else can see the Emperor’s new clothes are worthless?
OK, confess, what are your secret eccentricities?