I was sitting at a diner in Westport, CT with Extra Criticum's estimable founder, Roland Tec. He was describing how, when he writes, he can get to feeling isolated. But if he can just see other people, even through a window, down several stories, he's fine.

I have been thinking a lot about community lately. I've been thinking that much of what ails me in my creative life stems from a lack of community. We created our own little community last weekend, Roland, David Licata, and I. We spent a writing weekend up at Roland's beautiful childhood home.

It was pretty spectacular. The weather was gorgeous, and Rolo's home has a beautiful pool that we all swam in frequently. Writing, swimming, grilling - it was close to perfect.

We all did our own thing during most of the day, but writing was everywhere. No matter what I was doing, somebody was writing. And we all understood, however much fun we were having, what we were there to do. The weird highways and byways of creativity ("I'm going to skip the movie, I'm kind of on a roll", "I'm just reading now - my brain is spent") required no explanation.

It's a special feeling to be understood without explanation. It's gratifying a way that is difficult to quantify.

It's also special, when you're writing, to look up and see not just another person, but another writer. A friend. A fellow tiller in the fields. Feels like community.

May it happen again soon.