[Find my 2016 READING LOG here]
I was 'kidnapped' from work yesterday to have coffee with three older gentlemen—all of whom I love for various reasons, though our common link is an appreciation for music and a history of making it happen together.
As we moved through various layers of discussion we landed, for a brief moment, on what we did for New Years Eve. One of them—the tall, gentle giant who sat to my right—told of how the party he planned to attend had been cancelled so he and his wife sat together in their living room with glasses of wine, taking turns reading to one another from a novel set in his hometown.
"That's so romantic!" I gushed.
"She gets me," he responded, grinning and tipping his head my way.
"Not really my speed," one of the others said.
Books.
Sigh.
I've become so lazy.
If I'm being wholly honest I don't think I could say I read through 10 full books in 2015. That's just embarrassing. My head hangs in red-faced shame.
Everybody knows if you call yourself a writer, you had better be a reader! What better education is there than consuming the very thing you hope to create? Constantly. Until your eyes blur. Until other people's stories are as much a part of your blood stream as your own. Until you know inequitably what you like about a certain author's writing and until you know inequitably what you hate. Because that is how you better yourself: by judging devouring the work of others who have done it.
A writer who doesn't read is just a hypocrite.
And so, this girl who does not make resolutions, is raising her right hand and saying, "I shall read more!"
And not only for myself. I have begun reading to my children again too.
At night, as I pile myself beneath Noa's blankets and read to her from the clunky prose of a Nancy Drew mystery, she tucks her little head against my chest, her hair often sticking to my chin or finding its way into my mouth. She follows along as I read, ready to turn the page whenever I reach the end. And, every so often, she looks up at my face and watches me silently and I think that is the most precious thing ever and I am quite possibly the worst mother for waiting until she was seven-years-old to really savour these gentle moments with her.
So yeah. Reading. I'm doing it.
Because time spent reading is never wasted.
All this to say...if you have any interest in seeing what I'm reading you can go here—I'll try to keep it updated and hopefully, the thought that I'm now making myself publicly accountable will keep me motivated to READ MORE which will, in turn, motivate me to WRITE MORE!
You should totally get a Goodreads account. You can set goals, track progress, make a TBR, see what others are reading, etc. If you get a free account, I'd love to be your friend: Madeline Osigian.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, Goodreads. I do have an account, I've just been ignoring it. Perhaps I should give it another go...I'll look for you there :)
DeleteYay! So happy to connect with you over there too!
DeleteLove it! And love that you and your girl can share a little mystery together. Besides...winter in Canada! Your gonna have a lot of time to kill indoors. Raining and cold here today. I've already been out in it once. Now, I'm tucking in with a good Bible Study!
ReplyDeleteYes, I have much opportunity to keep warm by my wood stove. Hope you're out of the way of the crazy band of weather threatening down there!
DeleteJust rain and 'thunder' yesterday. Weird to have thunder in January. Then a crazy north wind. I think the 'big crazy' kicked up after it moved past us. Now the snow will pound the north east. Super windy and sunny today. Guess we'll count it as a blessing we are only stomping in the mud again.
DeleteI totally agree with you Alanna reading is great therapy!
ReplyDeleteI love reading your stories. I might not always comment but I look forward to your next one because you never cease to amaze me with your way with words.
Reading to your children is teaching them to read to their children and the cycle continues.
Keep up the great work!!! xo