The good, the admirable reader identifies himself not with the boy or the girl in the book, but with the mind that conceived and composed that book.
— Nabokov, Lectures on Russian Literature. Found this when flipping through an old college text for a reference. It resonates, because whenever I’m reading I often think way more about the author than the actual content. All the feverish nights of composition, the times when the words came easily, the passages where you can feel the writer had to overcome, was overcome, etc. It’s hard to be a writer (of anything!) and not think about the process. But damn, if it doesn’t ruin a good story sometimes.