AN OLD HIGH SCHOOL CLASSMATE, Lindsay, recently sent me a book to read (The Musician.) I'm not a big reader of fiction . . . in fact, the last fiction book I read from start to finish might have been The Bobbsey Twins and Baby May back when I was, what, 10 years old?
How did I make it through high school and college without reading Great Expectations and Homer's Odyssey? I don't know, but I do remember faking my way through exams on both those works.
And it's ironic; 'cuz as a kid, I used to write a lot of fiction—short
stories. And I guess, as an adult, I've done my share of writing in the
form of songs and articles. I even have a blog: Keety Mewzings.
I do read a newspaper cover to cover each day and peruse various
technical materials—especially those related to music. However, when it
comes to stories with intricate plots and character development, I find
myself struggling. The deeper I get into a book, as the plot unfolds and
individuals are introduced, the more lost I become in keeping everyone
(and everything) straight.
Hmmmm, Evan . . . now was that the son or is that the business associate??
And another thing, my inner dialog is just too unbridled. As I'm
reading, I'll suddenly realize that I'm not really reading, I'm
just looking at each word in succession while I'm actually thinking
about something else.
I wonder if I should repeat the chorus on that new song, or maybe—whoops! I'm supposed to be reading this story.
I think my form of attention deficit also extends into other aspects of
my life, such as watching movies. I often find myself focusing on
details like whether the boom mic dips into the shot instead of
following the plot.
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