THE DOCTOR IS IN

WRITING AND FREINDSHIP, OR WWJaneD?

VOLUME THE FIRST

Dear Dr. O'D:

How do I find a balance between getting my writing done and maintaining friendships? I am a successful writer, someone who actually earns a living writing and publishing books. I need a lot of solitude to work. Yet I am also gregarious by nature. I have a lot of good friends, and friendship is important to me. But when I am on deadline -- and it seems to me that for years now I am almost always on one sort of deadline or another -- I put off meeting up with friends, I don't like to "waste time" on the phone, and I don't accept invitations for leisurely lunches or late night dinner parties.

Then when a book comes out, there are other issues at work. I am traveling and lecturing a great deal, so I am unavailable for that reason. Sometimes I see friends in faraway cities because lectures or readings take me there, but then the encounter is shaded by that dynamic, so at times it seems that I am asking friends to be my audience, even if we do also meet for a meal before or after, and maybe they feel they have to buy my book, and sometimes I insist on giving them one, but either way, my writing and my books can become central to the relationship in an unintentional and problematic way.

Email seems to be the one thread of connection I have been able to keep with certain friends, but there are lots of people in my life for whom that doesn't really work. In fact, depending entirely on email has probably cost me a couple of friendships because it is so easy for tone and meaning to be misread, and the nature of the communication is different in ways that some relationships don't seem as able to tolerate as others.

I feel that a lot of good friends are slipping away. How close is a friend you only really talk to when you see her twice a year? Lots of people don't even try to make plans with me anymore. I feel very nourished by my friendships, and whenever I have made the time to be with a good friend, it feels worthwhile, though sometimes it comes at a steep price, because of the consequent hours away from my work.

I am also concerned that I am not making very many new friends, living this way. I have hundreds of acquaintances, and dozens of people who are certainly friends, but most of my deep friendships began in the time period before my work became so successful and the Internet took the place of the telephone as my chief means of communication.

            

How do I find the balance?

Didn't Mean to be Such a Loner

Dear Didn’t:

It seems to me that your letter comprises three questions:

1. How do I find the time and focus to honor and nurture important friendships given the demands of my career?
2. How do I circumvent the limitations and potential pitfalls of email?
3. How do I make new friends when I barely have time for the old ones?

For inspiration and a sense of perspective in addressing these questions, I rely on Jane Austen, a fine role model for handling nearly every social issue (except spelling). She may not have participated in book tours or electronic communication, but she managed to negotiate an active social life, to nurture long-distance relationships through written correspondence, and she continued to develop and enjoy new friendships up until her final illness.

Each of your questions is worthy of detailed exploration. Thus, I will tackle #1 today, and reserve the rest for subsequent columns.

I hear from people in a variety of work situations about the difficulty of maintaining satisfactory social lives in what feels like an increasingly frenzied and fragmented world. We may feel that the solitary nature of our work renders us more vulnerable to isolation, but accountants, janitors, and school principals complain of increased work hours entailing enforced socialization with people they might prefer not to know so intimately, resulting in drastically reduced time and energy for their families and close friends.

I say this not to minimize your legitimate distress, but to assure you of the likelihood that your friends share it. Thus, you may wish to discuss the problem with them as openly and eloquently as you have done here. This will not solve your time crunch, of course, but it may ease your mind a bit to learn that they feel just as anxious and guilty as you do about not keeping up their ends. It may even be the case that, far from resenting your book-oriented whirlwind visits, they are grateful for the periodic chance to reconnect and regretful that they can't return the favor by swooping into your hometown every few years and providing you with a fun excuse to abandon your chores for a night.

JA and her circle also recognized the need to strike a balance between work--including, in her case, writing, but also housekeeping, gardening, rearing of children in the family's care, and visiting the poor and the sick--and nurturing social relationships.

One advantage they had was a more general respect for privacy and personal limits than, it seems to me, is common now. While community and friendship were valued highly, friends did not presume, except in a dire emergency, control over one another's schedules or availability. Thus, a period of absence or diminished communication might be met with gentle inquiries about the absent one's health and well-being, but not with demands for an explanation or accusations that the overburdened friend did not truly care after all.

While this convention may seem to have fostered increased social distance, in fact it tended to have the opposite effect: Because friends did not feel entitled to each other's constant attention and intimacy, they were less likely to be disappointed by inevitable withdrawals, or to feel guilty about the limitations on their time. In this way, acquaintanceships could remain cordial without pressure to develop into close friendships; and true friendships could flourish more naturally and spontaneously within a framework of conventional politeness and consideration.

One custom that fostered both social activity and privacy was that of "at-home hours." The lady of the house would declare herself "at home" on, say, Thursdays after three. Her friends, and those who wished to cultivate her friendship, would know to call on her then. She would be ready to receive them, her work put aside, her attention on the conversation they offered. It was understood that at other times, she was "not at home," whether physically in the house or not, and not to be interrupted. Thus, she was able to offer and enjoy the delights of social intercourse without the burden of appearing to open the door to unlimited access to her time and attention.

I wonder whether you could institute a modern variation on this custom--perhaps reserving a few hours a week (or a month, if your time is that stretched) to devote to nurturing friendships. For example, you could spend one Thursday afternoon at lunch with a friend, or a group of friends, then set aside the following week's "at-home hours" to talk on the phone with a loved one in another city. If your friends are also overscheduled, you may need to move your "at-home hours" around the calendar from week to week, but the principle remains the same: You decide on the number of hours you wish, and can afford, to spend with friends and make sure to follow through. If someone you wish to connect with is unavailable this week, schedule her for another week, and try the next person on your list. (Naturally, in times of extraordinary need, you will devote yourself to your friends regardless of your schedule--but that would be true in any case.)

Above all, remember that your real friends will remain your friends through periods of limited availability. You need to do your part in nurturing and supporting your important connections, and they need to understand that the life that fulfills you entails certain commitments and sacrifices that make it hard for you to see as much of them as you would like to. We all want the best for the people we care about--assume that your friends care about you and want you to do what it takes to succeed in your chosen career.

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. Her book,  Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity (Seal, 2007) is now available in bookstores. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Jennie]

I love the idea of "at-home hours." I have not found it easy to institute, but maybe if I didn't take it so literally as an open house that would help. Thanks for your ideas. Depriving ourselves of social life, like sleep, is bad for our health.