Party Survival Manual for Writers

We writers are better known for our introversion than our partying. While we’re not all party duds, we’re likely the last ones to arrive at a party and the first ones to leave, if we show up at all. We live in our heads (often with our story characters), in observation mode, and we withdraw from crowds to protect our energy. I don’t need to tell you that this is a challenge at a party. 

My extroverted writer friend, Pamela, has always loved parties. She’s excited on the way to the party and all the way home. Until recently, I considered parties noisy, bustling cess-pools of human interaction. Pamela didn’t ask me to a lot of parties.

My husband is less of an introvert than I am. He sits alone at a desk all day and wants to go to every party he’s invited to. To hold my share with Pamela, my husband, and sometimes my career, I’ve had to find ways to survive (even enjoy) parties. And I’ve discovered some coping techniques that might help you as well.

It turns out that parties don’t have to be superficial and boring. We writers can thrive at parties. They help us expand our comfort zone, make meaningful connections, build our confidence, and write better stories by gathering experiences.

But to get all those benefits, we need a plan. Here are some steps to help you do so:

Commit to going.

Even though I like to say that I much prefer to stay home to read or write, I’ve learned to force myself to go to parties. When the party is over, I’m always glad I went. No party is ever as bad as I expected it to be and I usually make a new connection or deepen an older friendship just by showing up prepared. 

Prepare or beware.

Our thoughts and behavior in the hours before the party determine a lot of our experience. If we arrive at a party expecting to hate it, is it any surprise that we show up and hate the party? We have a lot more control than we think here.

Before you go, reduce sensory overload.

We can only handle so much stimulation in a certain period. I’ve noticed that the more silence I create the day of a party, the more stimulation I can tolerate at the party. To thrive at a party, we need to go in with a clear head. Some ideas for reducing sensory input the day of the party are: Reduce noise in your space and turn off electronic entertainment devices. 

Focus hocus pocus.

Multi-tasking is physically and emotionally draining for introverted writers. Can you manage alone time before the party? Focus on one thing instead of skipping from task to task? Can you block out the better part of the day for writing, reading, or some sort of handcraft? Can you schedule some meditation or exercise? 

Set your intention.

Set a precise aim or purpose for your attendance at the party. It’s easy for me to say parties are dumb and pointless, but that attitude can be changed. Decide ahead of time that you want to get out of the experience. Will you make a new friend or business connection, improve your listening skills, or learn something new? 

Locate the exit signs.

Have an escape plan. Know what you need to do to get out of the situation without offending others or creating feelings of guilt for yourself. Clear all known obstacles to your exit ahead of time. My rule is that I never carpool. I take my own transportation to untether me from others for a ride; I’m not forcing anyone to leave sooner than they are ready to accommodate me and I don’t have to stay past my Cinderella clock to give someone else a ride.

Schedule downtime for the aftermath.

Be sure and schedule downtime after the party. You’re going to need it. Find a quiet place to relax alone or go to sleep.

Put it out there.

I introduce myself and don’t wait for others to approach me. If it’s a name tag kind of party, I don’t write my name on the sticker. I write “Introvert.” This trick is excellent for attracting other introverts, at least those without visual impairments, for potentially meaningful conversations. If I introduce myself as an introvert, it generally wards off small talk. Already, I’m vulnerable with others which encourages them to connect. 

Coast with confidence.

The concept of confidence can be confusing. Are we supposed to fake it until we make it? Just switch it on when we walk into a crowded room? This suggestion isn’t an instant fix. You have to build confidence over time but the good news is that introverts are good at this task because it requires introspection. You can ask yourself about your fears about parties, what’s behind the concern, and you can examine the real facts and evidence you have that support (or likely don’t support) those fears. Then, you can list all the evidence you have that counters these fears like when you had success at a party or another event. Our brains like to focus on the adverse outcomes, but they are generally much less common than the positive results. We can rewire our short-circuiting brains and gain more confidence.

Full steam ahead?

As writers, we often put too much pressure on ourselves to perform at parties. We think we have to be “on” the whole time. The idea that I have to be “on” is a humungous challenge for me. I feel like it’s my job to keep the party going, my job to keep the conversations interesting, and my responsibility to smile. My energy starts draining right about the time my friend Pamela’s energy begins to spike. She is gaining energy from others as I’m losing energy to them. Instead of trying to keep up with her, I remind myself to step outside and take a breath, go in the bathroom and lock the door for a minute, sit in my car for a few minutes and then come back, walk around the block. One way I like to recharge at a party is to play with the house cat or dog. There is nothing like a pet to help me disconnect and reconnect. I know that if I don’t take these breaks to recharge, I’ll barrel into exhaustion.

Practice being honest.

There is nothing better than real-world interaction with others to help you create better characters and dialog. Rack up experiences and influences. Ask questions. 

You can sidestep annoying small talk and have meaningful conversations with people. 

You can start small by simply being honest. You can talk about how awkward parties feel, how you don’t know what to do with your hands. You can give yourself permission to ask questions of intriguing people and show your real curiosity. People have a sense of when others are being dishonest, if they are holding something back. People will like you more if you just admit you don’t like basketball, chocolate-covered cherries, or animals with scales. It’s okay to acknowledge that, even though you are a writer, you never finished reading War and Peace or that you hated The Old Man and the Sea. I mean, show your humanity.

Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.

If you’re fading and you know you can’t recharge, leave. And leave the guilt at the party. Just because people invited you to a party doesn’t mean they are entitled to your extended time. Why should you be miserable to make them feel better? Story characters’ emotional exchanges might work that way but real people don’t. You aren’t doing anyone any favors if you’ve given it your all, have nothing left to give, but stay anyway and act like a grump. In the American South, we have a saying, “It’s all about the exit, honey.” I translate this to two things: make sure you look as good going as you do coming (not relevant to this post), and the best gift you can give is to let them miss you.

The pay-off:

I’ve been putting these party survival ideas into practice for a while now, and both Pamela and my husband have seen the difference. They know I won’t come to all the parties but they can now trust that I’ll have a good time when I show up. 

Put some of these practices to work for you and let me know how they impact your party experiences. What tricks have you found that work?

For more on tactics for introverts, check out Michaela Chung’s The Irresistible Introvert: Harness The Power of Quiet Charisma in a Loud World. I based this post upon her work.