My writing time is precious – and limited. So when I’m able
to sit down for a few quiet hours, I try to get words onto the page as fast as I
can. But not too long ago, I was struggling more and more to write anything at
all. That’s when I realized I was being vigilant about writing – but I wasn’t
reading.
I picked up a few writing guides, but they didn’t inspire me
quite as much as I’d hoped. I spent a few evenings looking at a blank page, or
typing for three hours about the fact that I couldn’t think of anything else to
say. And then, finally, it hit me: I didn’t need to read about writing. I just
needed to read. Flash fiction, short stories, travel memoirs, novels, comic
books, the newspaper – anything that tells a story. Anything that would indulge
my love of words. Anything that would help me continue to develop my own
voice.
I started with a decade-old anthology of flash fiction that
had been languishing on my bookshelf. I picked up another anthology, this one
filled with short stories about Maine. There was a travel memoir about Italy,
and another about France. My brother-in-law loaned me a massive volume of
collected comic books: The Absolute Sandman, Vol. 1, by Neil Gaiman. That
last one was a title I probably never would’ve chosen on my own, but that was
the point. I had to get out of my own head and let some new ideas bounce around.
Several of my designated “writing evenings” were spent simply
reading. It was difficult to force myself to stop that panicked pounding on the
keyboard, desperately trying to meet a self-imposed weekly word count goal. But
it worked. Reading allowed me to breathe, to think, and to start fresh. New
ideas – and new stories – started to emerge onto the page.
Writers must be readers – in addition to the mothers,
daughters, sisters, friends, workers, and volunteers that we are as well. There
are only so many hours in the day, so sometimes we have to be creative in
finding time to read. Now that I’m back to using my “writing evenings” for
writing, I sneak in reading where I can – for example, while my one-year-old is
eating breakfast. Sometimes I look up from my book and he’s grinning at me,
covered head-to-toe in oatmeal and bananas and wearing his bowl on his head. So
I smile back at him and let him play, while I turn the page, and keep on
reading.
* * *
Mary Caffrey Knapke has worked as a journalist, English
instructor, and independent marketing professional. Read some of her work at maryknapke.wordpress.com.
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Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!
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