Sometimes, at 2 a.m. when I plug away at a chapter, I have a vague sense of alone-ness.
I wonder how many other late owl writers there are out there.
Are you also isolated in the vision of your characters, leaving the real time of the world behind as you type each word lovingly on the page in hopes of passing the story to a welcome audience.
Or is that just the lack of sleep clawing at my brain?
