Do not disturb.

The surprising correlation between introversion and creativity.

Stanley Kubrick was a lifelong recluse. So much so, he would often dress in disguises when answering his own door.

If you were a crazed fan paying an unsolicited visit to Stanley Kubrick’s English manor during the height of his fame in the ‘80s and ‘90s, you may have conversed with him without ever realizing it.

Kubrick had a habit of answering the door dressed as his butler, regrettably informing adoring fans that Mr. Kubrick was away, working on his next film.

Over the course of five decades, Kubrick directed commercial blockbusters like Spartacus, The Shining and Full Metal Jacket, as well as critically acclaimed films like 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange and Eyes Wide Shut.

Kubrick was a creative genius by every definition of the word. Yet, despite his brilliance, he somehow managed to maintain an air of anonymity throughout his storied career.

To such an extent that there was a brief time when a British conman—ironically named Alan Conway—impersonated the famed director to gain access to restaurants and high-society parties around London.

It’s rumored that Kubrick wasn’t upset by the impersonation but intrigued.

Catch me if you can.

There’s a fascinating correlation between introversion and creativity.

It doesn’t end with Stanley Kubrick.

Cormac McCarthy refused interviews, declined speaking engagements and once no-showed at a literary banquet held in his honor.

Emily Dickinson lived much of her life in her parents’ home with the vast majority of her time spent in her room, writing. When circumstances demanded she communicate with visitors, she did so through her closed front door. After Dickinson died at the age of fifty-five, her sister found a dusty trunk filled with 1,800 unpublished poems.

Harper Lee practically vanished after the release of To Kill a Mockingbird, only to resurface again, decades later, with the sequel, Go Set a Watchman.

J.D. Salinger—perhaps the most notorious creative recluse of all time—lived out the rest of his days in Cornish, New Hampshire, after publishing The Catcher in the Rye. Viewing publishing as a “damn interruption”, Salinger worked steadily in a detached room he called The Bunker, writing strictly for himself and his own pleasure.

These creatives could easily be shrugged off as socially awkward kooks. But, it might have been their social awkwardness—or introversion, rather—that fed their creativity.

Let’s talk to Jung.

Believe it or not, the concepts of “introversion” and “extroversion” weren’t really much of a thing until the turn of the 20th century.

A psychologist by the name of Carl Jung wrote and published a book called Psychological Types, in which he first popularized the terms “introvert” and “extrovert.” He described the former as…

“An introverted consciousness can be well aware of external conditions, but is not motivated by them. The extreme introvert responds primarily to internal impressions.”

Years later, a writer by the name of Susan Cain would take Jung’s theories on introverts and amplify them considerably in a book titled, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.

One of Cain’s observations on introverts reads…

“The highly sensitive tend to be philosophical or spiritual in their orientation, rather than materialistic or hedonistic. They dislike small talk. They often describe themselves as creative or intuitive. They dream vividly, and can often recall their dreams the next day. They love music, nature, art, physical beauty. They feel exceptionally strong emotions—sometimes acute bouts of joy, but also sorrow, melancholy, and fear. Highly sensitive people also process information about their environments—both physical and emotional—unusually deeply. They tend to notice subtleties that others miss—another person’s shift in mood, say, or a lightbulb burning a touch too brightly.”

As an introvert myself, I can confidently say that introversion is a katana that cuts both ways. We witness both extremes when gazing upon the works and lives of Stanley Kubrick, Cormac McCarthy, Emily Dickinson, Harper Lee and J.D. Salinger.

In the case of Emily Dickinson, it is not at all normal for a person to be so cripplingly introverted that they insist on talking to visitors behind a closed door.

However, it’s also quite unusual for a person to write 1,800 poems (some of which would go on to land among poetry’s greatest works) over the course of a relatively short life.

What introversion can teach us about creativity.

The same sensitivity that makes it difficult for introverts to function in a world that demands we talk to others is, at the same time, the essence that allows creatives to produce the kind of works we can’t take our eyes off of.

Introverts make for extraordinary creatives because creative work requires long bouts of solitude and deep focus. By contrast, an extrovert who feels most energized surrounded by people might find it more difficult to carve out time to be entirely themselves.

Because of this, there are plenty of lessons to be gleaned from introverted creatives, particularly when it comes to solitude and focus.

The great crime novelist Raymond Chandler set aside four hours, each day, when he forced himself to be entirely alone. During his solitude, he gave himself permission not to write if he wasn’t feeling inspired. However, if he chose not to write, he had to sit in his writing chair and do nothing.

Eventually, Chandler would grow so bored doing nothing, he’d write.

For introverts, the possibility of doing nothing—or creating something when faced with doing nothing—is as titillating as a tightly packed basement bar at 3 a.m., drinks flowing, bodies moving and music pumping sound waves into the ear canals and chest cavities of its lively inhabitants.

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