There's a pause, a quizzical smile, and then a nerveless witticism to the effect that it's nice to see you two are still talking to each other. Responses like that suggest an even darker view of the hazards of collaboration than the one we had when we started out. Still, given the tensions and abrasions that exist in the most ideal solitary writing circumstances, it's reasonable to wonder why we were willing to put domestic tranquillity on the line. And we knew of others who chose to work together because it gave them confidence, imposed discipline, doubled their literary capital and widened their range. But we were convinced that writing in tandem is a little like two people walking a tightrope while holding hands.
Writing is a solo enterprise.
By its very nature collaboration is perverse, a partial surrender of both personal style and narcissistic gratification for the sake of the whole. Some of us become writers simply because we like to be alone, our own bosses. There was even an inherent perversity in the subject we chose to write about, since nobody seems to agree on what a name is to begin with. Some years ago John Updike complained in an interview that no matter what he wrote it always ended up sounding like John Updike. Most of us spend years trying to develop a distinctive and recognizable voice.