As someone pointed out to me recently, I have become quite comfy as a couch cushion for my cats. A veritable sleeping perch that pleases them. (Why this therapeutic work microsphere? Tap, transfer, here.)
When I was a child, home recuperating from my numerous maladies, I would read. My teachers sent me missed schoolwork and library books. When I wasn’t sick, I biked daily after school to our one-story public library. I’d sprawl on the rust-colored carpet, book in hand, oblivious to the world.
During the summer of my eleventh year, I’d read every book in the children’s section of that small library. I recall a day in early August, choosing to reread a BOXCAR KIDS book by Gertrude Chandler Warner. Mrs. Miller, one of the librarians, tapped my shoulder, and commanded I follow her around until she finished her reshelving task. To my great surprise, she walked me over to the grown-ups side of the building.
Back then, the library had sections: for paperbacks, records, encyclopedias, and biographies. I was familiar with those, as they were on the checkout desk’s fringes. But nearby, enormous shelves opened, awaiting my inquisitive eyes, the ADULT SECTION.
In the adult section, I’d sit on the black and white linoleum floor, reading, until the library closed. To say no one in my family missed me during the day is an understatement. They sent me out of the house in the morning, and expected me at bedtime. Occasionally I might wander in during dinner hour, knowing I’d scavenge for something, if a host friend couldn’t be found.
Ooops, I digress. We’ll have to save all those stories about growing up in the 1970’s for another time.
Throughout that summer, I discovered a huge (Yuge as Bernie Sanders might say), realm of scientific, political, sociological, mythical, and magical realms. I silently studied, quoted, and even sang new words, imagined new worlds.
Reading was my refuge. I was in a dreamlike state, from morning until midnight. Bliss!
Anyone else experience that?
If you are a writer, are you first and foremost a great reader? Are you approaching your genre, be whatever it may, with youthful vigor and vim? I challenge you to mentally transport yourself to the years when you fell in love with reading. Tap into that energy anytime you need to jolt your creative juices.
In this fast-paced, social-centered world we find ourselves, use your time machine. Use it often.