Let me tell you a story. (that’s why you’re here, after all.)
I went to a party. It was a Friday after a long, crazy day at work that joined two weeks’ worth of long, crazy days. I went alone. I went with nerves and doubts.
See, I was afraid I wouldn’t know anyone at the party except the host. Sometimes I hate being right.
Like most of us, I’m not always comfortable in social situations, even with my occasional extroverted tendencies. So it began with the awkward standing, offers to help to make myself useful and give me something to do, feeling brave when I smiled at strangers. Just not quite brave enough to introduce myself.
Then my host introduced me to someone with an auspicious, “You both do theatre!” And the conversation went from there.
In fact, every conversation that night ended up coming back to theatre, or writing, or both. Most often both. And I made new friends!
No, I will never grow out of how awesome it is to make friends.
And that’s a lot of why I went. See, our host was Carrie Jones, who in addition to being an amazing writer is quite possible the kindest and most caring person I have ever met. Her friends were bound to be awesome.
When I came home, I was bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute. My poor husband. I tried to blame the punch, but we both knew it was just my extroverted tendencies acting up.
Thanks to those fantastic conversations, I finally read Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus, which had been in my to-read pile for years. (Yes, it was every bit as great as the hype.) They also propelled and inspired me to write more, helping to sustain the awesome creative productivity that has so far defined this year.
So my whole long, rambling point: stories are social magic. Also, that was a great party and I’m so glad I went, rather than letting nerves and fears win.