There are no movies in my head. There are smudges and jump cuts and brief glimmers of high-res. There is a strange composite of things I know and things I don’t know, like a shoebox diorama half painted and half made out of photographs cut from magazines. And I love when movies get made from stories I adore—whether they overwrite the vague image I had in my head or they fill in the gaps I couldn’t manage, they help me complete the pictures that my brain is choosing to leave half-finished. It’s extra exciting to have to image finally filled in all the way to the edges of the page.
At first it seemed to me that not visualizing things would be like being deaf — missing out on so much! But then I remembered the decades where I could barely get through any novel because I was OVER-visualizing everything and trying to figure out how I would film the scene, which meant I was also adding a camera and lights and sound equipment and whether it needed a matte or bluescreen or rear projection or, or, or... argh.I had to train myself to stop doing that, because it was getting in the way of the story. So in that sense I was being overwhelmed by the mental images, as if I were next to a construction site in a big city during rush hour. A little deafness might be nice in that instance.
Welcome back. Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account.