I sometimes smile wryly when I hear myself described as an “ex-nun”. It is true that I no longer observe the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience that governed my seven years in a Roman Catholic convent during the 1960s. I am no longer poor, and am certainly not obedient. But I have never married, I continue to live alone, pass my days in a silence that would not disgrace the strictest cloister, and spend my life writing, thinking and talking about God and spirituality.
Being solitary holds no terrors for me. Unless one relishes long hours alone, it is probably impossible to be a writer. Somebody once called me a “gregarious loner”. I thoroughly enjoy company, but become tense and feel depleted if I do not have an extensive period of time by myself each day. I also love my work. I can hardly wait to get to my desk in the morning, and when I enter a library, knowing that I can spend hours there beyond the reach of fax and phones, I can scarcely believe my luck.
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