Same here only more so
Back in October, Hugh Howey (you know, of Wool fame?) wrote a blog post that addressed a matter of particular interest to me:
“… It’s 1 time out of 100 that I write in public (usually by necessity, not by choice).
It’s 1 time out of 100 that I write a scene that makes me cry (again, no stopping it).
It’s 100 out of 100 times that these two overlap. Why the hell?” [see the whole post and the many replies…]
I was one among the many who replied — I just had to. I said:
Crying can be an issue, but in theory I can avoid public writing when working a sad scene…
But I’ve got this whole other problem: my face reflects what I’m writing, ALL the time.
If my characters are angry, I look angry. If they’re puzzling something out, I’m wearing a quizzical squint. Startling revelations? Transcendent epiphanies? Betrayal by presumed sweetie-pie? Right there on my face.
And, oh, yes: I write Science Fiction and Fantasy, so monsters are possible. And bloody death. And even exaltation.
More than one total stranger in a cafe has asked me if I’m all right. Worse yet, a friend once treated me to a re-enactment of my sequence of expressions, which he thought was completely hilarious. He laughed and laughed. I just sat there stunned and appalled.
Since that time, when I write in public, I rarely write actual prose. Generally, it’s analyses, outlines, journal entries — working through ideas in some way. Much safer.
It’s one of the reasons I got myself an off-site office.
Some people are great at ignoring their surroundings, so what they see around them doesn’t distract, beckon, admonish, oppress, or prompt response. Not me.
In fact, I cleverly trained myself to really notice stuff, starting back when I was a kid — intentionally, in order to improve my writing.
I feel it’s served me well.  But it’s hard to turn off sometimes.
Thus: office! And thank you, ebook purchasers, for making it possible.