Alone in a crowd
Rachel Durrant
I started writing my political novel in 2005 after feeling dismayed by how Australia had changed in 2001 following 9-11. That event marked an ominous beginning to this new century, and I felt drawn to write about it.
Yes, I agree, my novel has had a lengthy gestation period. I’ve been riddled with doubts I possessed the credentials to tell this story. I’m not a terribly political person, but I was drawn to understand what motivates a person to enter politics, and what makes such a person capable of issuing drone strikes on other humans.
In 2023, after a health scare I retired from work at least a couple of years before expected. And that was fine, really, because I’d always sensed that eventually such a political story would demand the sacrifice of my public service career.
But the idea of writing full-time was exciting. I had a strong sense of purpose. I had taken long service leave the year beforehand to test-drive writing full-time, and had relished it. So I felt positive.
Even so, this new period was lonely. I missed a few critical inputs that work provides:
* The daily routine of heading off to work.
* The social interactions from sharing office space.
* The projects requiring collaborative effort to achieve outcomes.
So while I had purpose, I spiralled, realising that work had made me complacent. I’d forgotten what was needed to go out and make new friends, because I’d convinced myself that my loose work friendships were enough. Funnily, when I stopped working many of those friendships slipped away.
Knowing my writing life would now be centred in my suburb, I committed to act locally, joining my community association. Great people, holding lovely gatherings at my local cafe, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to make new friends!
Curious about loneliness, I watched documentaries on ‘Australia’s loneliness pandemic’. I became so invested in the topic, I met the ACT’s Senator David Pocock at his mobile office to challenge him that Canberrans recorded Australia’s highest rates of loneliness. My first political act!
How funny, he asked me what I was doing about loneliness! I realised all I had was an intuition that the key was to befriend my neighbours, and said as much. He urged me to read social researcher Hugh Mackay’s book ‘The Way We Are’ which confirmed my intuition.
So I made a plan. I hosted a street party in our front garden — coffee and cake, nothing fancy — and submitted a story about it to the Neighbours Every Day competition.
Winning the competition for the ACT was lovely, demonstrating that soul-filled community stories resonate. But more significantly, the experience retaught me a critical skill we gain as fearless children but somehow lose as adults who fear rejection.
Making friends is simple. All you have to do is take a big breath and ask, just like you did as a kid. You’ll be surprised by how many friends were just sitting there, waiting to be asked: ‘would you like to meet for a coffee?’
By Simone Abbot
