Posted on | December 2, 2012 | 1 Comment
When you are deep in a book, it’s my experience that you check out of life a little; to others you look like you’re there, but you’re never completely present. You try talking, but you can’t quite tune in; you try listening to people, but you can’t quite concentrate. You’re working harder than ever, but you have little to show for it, and it grows ever harder to explain what you are up to: at the instant somebody asks, you’re probably attempting a dozen different things, none of them really intelligible to an outsider because they may or may not form part of an as-yet inconceivable whole.
The trouble with this quote is that it explains my life rather than any specific moment when I am writing a book…