In The Inner Citadel, you explore solitude as a way to recover attention, emotional balance, and a more grounded sense of self. The image of the “inner citadel” gives the book its structure. How did that metaphor come to you?

The idea of the Inner Citadel grew from my own experience rather than from the metaphor itself. During extended periods of solitude on Dartmoor, I realised that the greatest challenge was not escaping external noise, but quietening the noise within. I wanted a symbol of inner strength that protected without isolating, inspired by the Templar fortress of Château Pèlerin. The “inner citadel” became a metaphor for the place within us where we recover clarity, resilience, and authenticity. Solitude is not an escape from life, but a way of returning to it more centred, compassionate, and emotionally whole.

How do you distinguish healthy solitude from loneliness?

Healthy solitude is a choice; loneliness is a condition. Loneliness is the painful experience of feeling disconnected from others, whereas healthy solitude is intentionally creating space to reconnect with yourself. In The Inner Citadel, I argue that solitude isn’t about withdrawing from relationships but about strengthening your inner life so you can return to them with greater presence, patience, and authenticity. If time alone leaves you calmer, clearer, and more compassionate, it is healthy solitude. If it leaves you increasingly isolated, bitter, or disconnected, it has become something different. Solitude should deepen our capacity to love others, not diminish it.

You begin with the pressures of constant notifications and mental overload. Why do you think attention has become one of our most valuable resources?

I believe attention has become one of our most valuable resources because it shapes the quality of every part of our lives. In a world of constant notifications, endless information, and competing demands, our attention is continually fragmented. When we lose the ability to direct it intentionally, we also lose depth of thought, emotional balance, and our connection with ourselves. In The Inner Citadel, I argue that protecting our attention is no longer a luxury – it is an act of self-preservation. Solitude helps us reclaim that attention, allowing us to think more clearly, live more deliberately, and engage more fully with both ourselves and others.

If readers revisit this book ten years from now, what do you hope they’ll discover in its pages?

I hope they’ll discover that The Inner Citadel was never really about solitude – it was about learning how to live well. While technology and the pace of life will undoubtedly change, our need for inner stillness, self-understanding, resilience, and meaningful human connection will remain. I hope the book feels as relevant then as it does now because it speaks to timeless human needs rather than passing trends. Above all, I hope readers return to it at different stages of life and find that it meets them where they are, offering not just comfort, but the quiet encouragement to return to themselves.

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