For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to my inclination to write. I feel like a part of me has checked out and taken my inspiration with it. Wherever it went, I hope it’s having fun. I’m expecting a postcard any day.
Then I started thinking about my reading habits over the past few weeks, and it hit me. Like a ton of bricks.
I’ve always believed that there is a direct correlation between what I read and what I write; one is all but completely dependent on the other. I am not alone in this belief. In his book On Writing, Stephen King suggests, “If you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time or the tools to write.” I wholeheartedly concur.
Without even thinking about it, I glean ideas from what I read. Books, articles, the backs of cereal boxes all prompt me to ask questions. I don’t mean to suggest that I get personally introspective because of what I read on the back of my box of Special K. But I think that when I read more, I am more perceptive. The world becomes clearer and more ambiguous at the same time. I find myself questioning more frequently that which is presented to me as fact. I get curious.
With that said, school is officially finished, and I have all the time in the world to read what I want. So here’s to a summer full of good wine, good books, and good writing! I hope.