When I'm writing a book, it's very difficult for me to step away from it, to fully leave that world, until the story has come to a close. I might be talking to you, looking you in the eye, laughing at your joke, but still, a part of me is somewhere else.
While I realize I have this laser focus, I'm not sure where it comes from. Much like writing itself, it's an innate part of me. Something I can't help, it's just there. And it makes me wonder, is it because of these personality markers that I became a writer? If I was outgoing, graceful, obvious, would I still enjoy the days, weeks, months of solitude that it takes to sink myself into a story? I don't know, and I'm okay with that.
The New Basement Tapes
featuring vocals by Marcus Mumford