Writer's have long cherished solitude, whether in the city or in the wilderness. Personally, I enjoy a bit of both.
Many of us need solitude, especially writers, readers, artists, thinkers, and the like. In fact, I might argue that some degree of solitude is necessary for a well balanced life. Regardless, I am someone who needs solitude and a social life. I find comfort in solitude, muse in solitude, and inspiration in solitude; but there is also a lot I can’t find in solitude, like all that comes with relationships and families.
In the city (or town) we are connected again to the ebb and flow of civilized life - and the society of which we seek to influence through our writing. It's important to maintain this connection, despite how annoying, chaotic, and distractive it can be at times. Through marinating this connection, we give ourselves the opportunity to touch others' lives and others' the opportunity to touch our own. This is an important part of life, an essential part of life. We need human connection and interaction; we need each other.
In solitude we are driven to examine ourselves, be more contemplative about life, and become more centered in our own being. Solitude allows us the peace and quiet to think deeply, wonder about things, and explore our passions and imagination. In solitude we can, like watering a plant, nourish our roots with the nectar of our dreams and passions, so that we may blossom when the season is right. Writing is a very solitary activity, and being a writer is a very solitary way of being. We dig into ourselves, glancing around the corners of our imagination, positioning the stones of our dreams, and tasting the fruits of our passions – and with each new discovery, we further shape and sculpt the character we play in life. In solitude, perhaps we make peace with a chaotic world for a while; perhaps we find comfort in simple things once again; perhaps we are reminded why we really love life, despite its chaos, and want to share it with others. So we write.