Into the Fire

Tunnels. Bound on both sides and on top. Through something. A chosen pathway. Unnatural lighting. Restricted.

If you want a biological definition of an actual term used to describe a real type of vision, you can look here.

I refer to the type of focus a writer might use when involved in the construction of a novel. It's an alternate destiny requiring getting to know people (characters) intimately, visiting them on their home turf (sometimes made up places, sometimes not), and conversing with them in all kinds of situations (via their internal thought processes or through talking with other people [also characters]).

To do it adequately it requires concentration, the kind you must use if you're going into a dark tunnel where you're not entirely sure how long it is or where it ultimately leads. The tunnel vision required to see at all reminds us of the unpredictable and insecure journey but keeps our eyes narrowed and on our goal.

I don't have the physical condition described in the above link. However, I've been singularly minded as far back as I can remember, and that's a pretty long ways. Tunnel vision tends to describe the kind of focus with which I view life. Sometimes a blessing and other times not so much, it is who I am whether or not I'm writing a novel. In fact, I tend to break the norm for myself when I write, taking unexpected random trips away from stories and losing my focus. When I regain it, the acquisition of that vision can resume at full throttle or sometimes break down in the tunnel which is always scary.

How would you describe your vision of life?

Father, thank you for focus. Help me to keep it where it's supposed to be. Always. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.