The life of a writer can be solitary.

Writing a novel is not a collaborative process, especially not at the beginning. Of course, it’s great to discuss ideas with other people, to play about with themes and characters, setting and jeopardy and tension, and researching can be very interactive at times, but usually writing a 70,000–100,000-word novel is an individual process. Writers cannot exist in a vacuum though. None of us can. That’s why family and friends are so important.

I belong to a group of writers called Solitary Writers, and their name stems from the place a writer often finds her/him/themself in. An idea begins in the mind and then it transfers itself to the page and we work on it. It can be a lonely process until editors and then reviewers and readers are involved. So often, those people become friends too, through the impact of a story. The Solitary Writers meet to share all our work: the process of supporting and collaborating has resulted in some treasured friendships.

I have a small family but each one of them is like a jewel in a priceless bracelet. When we come together, our time is precious and we pick up where we left off as if it was only yesterday. Family is a real big deal for me; culturally, it brings strong emotions into play, like loyalty and trust, the importance of being an unbreakable unit who support each other. The idea of a family with rifts and chasms, where people no longer want to be together, makes me sad.

And friends are the family we choose, people who belong to that same group for whom we’d do anything, whom we rely on, who we’ll support come what may, whose company is magical. I am blessed with my friends, some who go back a long way and have stuck with me despite me being the individual that I am. And I’m still making friends – people I click with immediately, whom I can’t help but warm to.

This week, I did a couple of writer events: a library, and a women’s group. I was invited there to talk about my novels, but I left having made so many new friends. It’s always a privilege to meet people who want to discuss their passion for books.

Similarly, I went to a writer’s party, and it was wonderful to catch up with old friends and to make new ones. There were people I’ve valued since we first met, and others who will become firm friends as I get to know them. It’s a good feeling.

Recently, I went to the Africa Oye festival in Liverpool and caught up with some old friends and met new ones. We went back together afterwards, sat around a table, reminisced. Is there a more wonderful feeling than to share things with others, whether it’s food and drink or conversation? And I was freshly reminded why these people are so special.

Two weeks ago, I had a book launch party and again, a bunch of us sat around a table eating idlis and dosas and laughing. Memories are made of these fuzzily warm times with special people.

Friends are people for whom sharing is important; in our relationship, despite distance, time and change, we are there for each other. We celebrate what is different and similar in us as people; we understand symbiosis, support, solidarity and kindness.

I can be a bit of a hermit, although people who meet me probably think I’m gregarious. But it’s too easy to fall into the hyperfocus world that is novel writing. However, I don’t get inspiration just from myself, although a lot of ideas come from inside my head. Much motivation comes from the beautiful world around us, nature, walking on the beach, in the woods, but in truth, the greatest part comes from people, experiences, shared memories. That’s what really inspires what I do.

New people come along and their warmth and kindness are so important. When I meet up with old friends, I wonder why it’s been so long since the last time, and don’t want to go home at the end of the evening. And I’m blessed with family. Although there aren’t many of them, they’re so special. Family are people for whom we live and breathe because they are part of our DNA. Each of them is a blessing. It’s a relationship where there’s no blame, no judgment, just acceptance and appreciation. And love.

So, next week, I’ll be back in the writing cave, editing, creating, working in the hyperfocus world I live in, and I apologise in advance if I forget to phone or I’m a bit distracted or I haven’t been properly listening. I promise you, in my heart, you come first every time.

The value of those we love can’t be emphasised enough. No person is an island – we may behave like peninsulas at times, but we are our best when we are part of a complex map, with diverse and delightful people around us.

I’ll end this blog post by sending you a quotation, with love. It comes from that delightful philosopher, Winnie the Pooh.

‘If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together.

 Keep me in your heart. I’ll be there forever.’