Huge amounts of reading (both for pleasure and studying) have been taking up my time lately. I’ve found (and you’re gonna love this Mom) that I’m rekindling a taste for reading in general.
I’ve always been an above average reader as far as comprehension, speed, and vocabulary have been concerned but as I entered my teen years and other activities took my fancy I abandoned the habit of pleasure reading and focused instead on reading only what was necessary to survive or expand my knowledge professionally.
My mom is an avid, and perhaps rabid, reader. She doesn’t read books – she consumes them. My mother is the most well-read person I know and I have never been able to connect with her on that level. I still can’t, but at least the pleasure of reading is entering my life again.
I remember my first thought when I decided to take writing more seriously: Crap! I’ve got to read more…
Yes, you should read as much as you can if you want to write. At first, I read begrudgingly; splitting my time to include pleasure reading was something I felt I had to shoehorn into my life and that meant other things had to change. I sort of resented the intrusion at first. For some reason, I could always find the time to read a magazine or a new programming/tech book, but to read short stories or a novel? How intrusive!
Turns out, I’ve begun to enjoy the intrusion. I’m not wasting time by reading as I’d convinced myself so many years ago. I’m enriching, and best of all, enjoying. I’ll likely be a better writer thanks to the exposure, and if nothing else, I’ll be happier.
(Don’t forget that I have a second blog where I discuss things purely relating to writing and the path I’m forging professionally with it. There’s always a link to it in the More of Me section of the sidebar, but I’ll give you the link here too.)