Plenty of parent-writers out there talk about the struggle of balancing parenthood and writing, and much of what they have to say is true. But it’s my friendships I neglect. My child is here in my house demanding attention. My friends are far away and too busy themselves to point out that I haven’t called or sent the birthday card or remembered the important event or whatever it is. What does it mean to spend more time with imaginary people than real ones?