I don’t write everyday. This used to be something that I was insecure about as a writer, because it’s the common adage of every great author: write daily. However, I don’t believe that anymore. I do believe in writing frequently, but sometimes the daily writing process just doesn’t happen and this is why.
See, I think perhaps an even more important and more often forgotten part of the creative process is consuming art. It’s something we do when we’re younger. We would read for hours, getting lost in different worlds. And when we leave from those worlds, we feel renewed, inspired, and often times, challenged.
Lately, I’ve had a little bit more time to consume more media, whether that’s books or movies, and truthfully, I’ve felt my writing come easier. I think it’s because it’s important to refuel your inspiration and think differently about the world. The only way you can do that is exposing yourself to different things. That was something I definitely lost in adulthood. When time becomes limited with trying to balance job and health and family and also writing, it somehow feels indulgent to steal an hour away for pleasure reading.
I’ve been reading so much lately and damn, it feels so great. I feel like I’m returning back to this side of me that gets lost in a good book. Part of the reason it’s been easier to read, is that I’m not reading books I’m supposed to read, i.e. classics, or high brow novels. Instead, I’m reading books that I want to read, the ones that grab me on the first page.
Oooh, I read The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid, which I highly recommend. This week I’m currently devouring Where the Crawdad’s Sing by Delia Owens. For me, it was slightly slow in the beginning, but it’s really picking up speed. I’m investeddd.
