With coffee and writing implements at hand, I can determine the shape of today. |
For the last few weeks I have been making the acquaintance of the ugly kid brother of writer's block: reader's block. The usual joy that accompanies the activity of reading is eluding me. This might be due to a number of causes. I'm around reading materials nearly 24/7, and I might have burned myself out a bit. Plus, RL over the past couple of months has been particularly trying between family concerns, the busy summer reading period at work, and a suspected case of sciatica that can sometimes nearly incapacitate me. It's certainly aggravating not being able to do the things that need doing, when I have a chance to do them. I know there are people in much worse circumstances than I so I try not to complain too much. But naturally, this bleeds over into my writing, or lack thereof. I've barely done anything here at WDC. I've barely done anything on my own, though I have several projects started that need attention and work. I even took out a subscription to Asimov's so I can re-acquaint myself with the art of the short story. The clock is ticking, and I need to smash these two blocks and get on with things. To that end, I am departing my my usual choice of reading material (even a return to Fritz Leiber's Lankhmar didn't have the desired effect). Currently on my nightstand is the singularly titled The Jewish-Japanese Sex and Cook Book and How to Raise Wolves, by one Jack Douglas. This appeared randomly in one of my library-themed social media feeds, and on a whim I checked our system to see if we had a copy. We did. One. So naturally I put a hold on it, mostly so I could enjoy the expressions on my co-workers' faces when it arrived. Nor was I disappointed. However, this humorous account of life in rural Canada and Connecticut is pretty entertaining, set as it is in the early Seventies. The author was a contemporary of Jack Paar and had an...interesting...choice in pets. But my real hope is that this change will recharge my love for reading, and thusly rekindle the writing fires as well. Often when reading a book my little "internal librarian" is considering what book to have ready when the current one is finished, and she's been quiet for too long...until now. She's wandering up and down my mental stacks once more, deciding which road my mind needs to take next. And that is a hopeful sign. |