Respirational Therapy

Thought for the day: Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow. [Lawrence Clark Powell]

Yep. It's that time again.Time for our monthly IWSG posts. As always, thanks to our fearless leader, Alex Cavanaugh, for founding this fine group, and thanks to all the other nurturing guys and gals who've helped turn it into the thriving community it is today. I'm telling ya, this group offers better support and lift than the world's most expensive bra. (No underwires, either!) To join this super supportive group of writers and to see links to other participating blogs, please go HERE

Nothing much to report on the writing front this month. The editing work has slowed down a bit, too, because real life has gotten in the way. (Dontcha hate it when that happens?)

Okay, without any more blah-blah-blah, I'll jump right to this month's question:

It's been said that the benefits of becoming a writer who does not read is that all your ideas are new and original. Everything you do is an extension of yourself, instead of a mixture of you and another author. On the other hand, how can you expect other people to want your writing if you don't enjoy reading? What are your thoughts?

[image courtesy of unsplash]

What are my thoughts?

Why in the world would someone who doesn't enjoy reading books have any interest whatsoever in writing one??? That makes about as much sense as someone who prepares delicious meals and then throws them into the trash because he doesn't like to eat. Or someone who's afraid to fly deciding to become a pilot. To me, reading and writing are the opposite sides of the same wonderful coin, and I can't imagine one without the other.

May I never be so blind that all I see is my own small world, nor so self-satisfied that all I am is all I ever hope to be. 

To the best of my recollection, those are the words a guest speaker wrote on the blackboard before teaching an adult Sunday school class many years ago. They resonated with me then, and they continue to resonate, which is why I still remember them.

How can anyone be so self-satisfied with their own world view that they don't want to expand their understanding of the world by reading what other writers have written? How can anyone think his ideas are new and original if he has no idea what other ideas exist? What point of comparison does he have?

Like most of you, I'm an unapologetic book hound. As a child, one of my favorite things to do was climb an apple tree at my grandmother's house... with a book. Sheltered in the tree's branches, I was nurtured by both words and apples, and I was transported to other times and places, and my imagination was sparked by the tales I read, both fiction and non-fiction.

It's hard to fathom how someone who doesn't feel that same spark about books can truly care about writing one.

[image courtesy of unsplash]

Are you familiar with the song I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face? One line in there says ♫♪like breathing out and breathing in.♪♫

That's a great way to describe my concept of reading and writing, too. Like breathing. When we read, we inhale knowledge, new ideas, different ways of thinking and living, and thus inflate our understanding of the world and the people we share it with. When we write, we exhale the stories we create, and we share a bit of our hearts and souls with our readers in the process.

How can someone exhale without inhaling? There's gotta be something in there before you can let it out, right?

So, in case it's unclear, I strongly support the point of view that says reading and writing go hand-in-hand. To write effectively, I believe a person must also read voraciously.

Oh... and have cats.




Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


Read! When your baby's finally down for the night, pick up a juicy book like "Eat, Pray, Love" or ''Pride and Prejudice,'' or my personal favorite, ''Understanding Sleep Disorders: Narcolepsy and Apnea, a Clinical Study.'' Taking some time to read each night really taught me how to feign narcolepsy when my husband asked me what my plan was for taking down the Christmas tree. [Tina Fey]