Of Coworking, Community, and Avoiding Crazy Writer Stereotypes

During the pandemic, millions of people discovered that they liked working from home.

I, surprisingly, discovered that I did not.

It was all fine and good when we naively believed life would go back to normal if we just stayed home for two weeks. Sure, my cat broke my router 45 minutes into the very first day, resulting in an uncomfortable and harried trek into Walmart for an expensive, subpar replacement that would torment me for the next two years. But when my work laptop wasn’t crashing at the most inopportune times (yes, I definitely should have taken the hint and backed up my novel and everything else on my personal laptop) I was focused and productive.

I enjoyed sleeping in instead of driving 30 minutes into the office. I was literally seven steps from my kitchen, so there were plenty of snacks. And since I didn’t have to drive 30 minutes home, I figured I might as well stay online and get some more work done. And there really wasn’t anything else to do, since I wasn’t supposed to leave my apartment. So I might as well answer a few more emails.

Oh wait. How was it 8 o’clock?

Sound familiar?

I’d always been a chronic workaholic. Erasing the line between home and office just made that worse. But that wasn’t my biggest issue.

I was lonely.

Work From Home Blues

I’m an introvert, so initially the thought of the government cancelling all my plans and gifting me some free time was appealing.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that adding extra work and subtracting all in-person human interaction did not equal a good time.

I missed walking into my office and talking with my coworkers about what I’d done the night before. Overhearing their analysis of how many tears they cried over This is Us or the play-by-play of their dog’s adorable antics. Swapping superficial chatter about the weather while I filled up my water bottle in the morning. Laughing about my many dislikes with my Lunch Bunch crew.

Also, you know, sitting down together in the conference room to discuss wildly important goals. Meetings that were in person and involved food if they were held over lunch hour. So many missed retirement cakes as coworkers drifted off into their next chapter of life without a proper goodbye.

In the (post-publication) full time writer’s life I’d imagined since high school, I always enjoyed typing away in my home office, utterly content in my solitude.

It was sobering to realize that life would actual involve too many snacks and too little exercise, two cats who walked across my keyboard so often they were hankering for a co-author credit, and not being in a room with another actual person for days at a time. I desperately wanted to write. But I wanted to avoid all those movie stereotypes where isolated authors go absolutely bonkers – think Johnny Depp in Secret Window or Emma Thompson in Stranger Than Fiction.

Finding My Own Community

“I’m a little worried,” I admitted to my friend during our ridiculous lunch after I told him I was leaving my job. “You know I hate working from home.”

“You should look for a coworking space,” he suggested.

I’d heard about coworking – where you could rent a desk in a shared office and acquire some casual coworkers. But I lived in a small town in what I lovingly deemed “middle of nowhere” Pennsylvania. I didn’t expect to find a coworking space nearby, but I supposed there might be one in the city where I had worked.

I was quite surprised when google found a coworking space in my very town, less than a mile from my apartment.

I stalked them on facebook a bit, and on my very first day of my writer’s sabbatical I called them up and scheduled a tour.

The moment I walked into kTown Hall I knew I wanted to write there. The space was bright and modern, with lots of windows and natural light. My apartment, which I loved but spent far too much time in, was dim and crowded in comparison, and also housed my dear but distracting cats.

Even more welcoming was the woman who showed me around. I was energized by talking about what I’d set out to do. Day 1 of the writer’s life and here was some human interaction – win! It took basically no convincing to get me to sign up for a permanent desk. And so my life as a full time writer began.

The Values of Coworking

Aside from actually quitting my job, joining a coworking space was the best decision I’ve made in the past year. I’ve met amazing people who are cheering me on and genuinely interested in my progress. In turn I’ve learned all sorts of things about their jobs, in everything from social media influencing to SEO marketing to niche tech platforms. I get to chat about my weekend plans and what’s for lunch and tell new people how much I dislike everything about winter (except for Christmas).

I’ve also connected with people who need someone to write content and picked up some freelance work so I can pay a few bills. Networking is a truly valuable thing that we’ve lost sight of during the pandemic, and I find it a lot less painful when it’s casual instead of in a forced setting – and it’s much easier to do in person than online.

Going to my coworking space every day gives me structure and accountability. I’ll talk a bit more about that in a later chapter, but an essential part of getting published is writing the book. To achieve a goal you need to focus and do the work. If I spent all my time alone at home, I might be more likely to skip a few days. The fact I’m actually paying for a workspace reminds me I better make good use of it!

As important as that is, it’s the community aspect that really makes my membership worthwhile. There are people I see every week who are at least a tiny bit invested in my dream. They ask me for updates. They cheer me on. When the inevitable rejections start coming in, they’ll be sympathetic.

It’s been eleven months now, and I don’t feel the tiniest bit neurotic or homicidal, so something is working!

Don’t Chase Your Dream Alone

Chasing a dream can be a lonely business. The focus you need can be all-consuming, and might cause you to cut ties to activities that previously kept you social. If you quit your job, you’ll no longer see your coworkers everyday. Maybe you won’t have as much time for your friends.

I strongly recommend that you don’t take your journey alone. Maybe you love remote work. (Apparently most people do.) I’m not saying you have to change out of your PJs and drive somewhere else every morning if you can really make better use of that time. But be sure when you power down your computer to talk to a human being every once in a while. And not just your family. Their support is huge, but they shouldn’t be the only people you ever see.

Remember those biggest fans I talked about last time? Build in routines so you’re definitely catching up with them, no matter how busy or stressed or focused you are. Their support will keep you going on the hard days. It’ll power you through rejection, disappointment, and those inevitable “blah” days where you can’t remember why you’re doing this.

These fans may also have some stellar ideas to help you on your way. I wouldn’t have looked for a coworking space if not for my friend’s suggestion. And my critique group has given me so much outstanding advice that has radically improved my manuscript. Sometimes we need an outsider’s perspective to see what we can’t. Even if you have a healthy circle of friends, consider whether there isn’t a new community you can join – perhaps virtually – of people with similar interests. You never know how you’ll be able to help and support each other, but they might just give you the push you need to be successful.

Think of your favorite book. Every hero has a cast of characters supporting them, teaching them – and yes, sometimes challenging them. They make the story richer as they help the hero succeed.

Now turn to the back of that book – or any book – and look at the acknowledgement page. Maybe, like me, you usually skip over that part. But take a couple minutes to read it – or at least count the names. There are a shockingly large number of people involved in the writing and publication of a single book. I suspect the same is true with every successful endeavor.

Perhaps more endeavors would succeed if they had such a crew behind them.