Time to Read

I have given myself some time off, to catch up on my reading. Last Wednesday my daughter said to me, in a rather accusing tone of voice: ‘You know mum, you are always working. I am never-ever going to be like you.’

There she was, sticking a life-size mirror in my face. I saw this woman who was dead serious. She was always busy, from morning until night, and serious about everything she did. A woman who was, well, always working.

My writing mustn’t become work. Work means making hours, be disciplined, sticking in to finish a tedious task, doing the job even when you don’t feel the least inspired. Of course this is all very useful if you want to become a writer, but it shouldn’t kill the fire inside. ‘I can’t imagine you doing anything with less than your full attention. You do things passionately’, friends tell me. Ever since I’ve decided to write, I’ve felt this fire inside me grow. Sometimes it feels like it might be getting out of hand, that I am walking on a mere crust, like a thin layer. Hardly strong enough to keep the boiling lava below, if ever it should get out of control, but that is not the main worry here. I shouldn’t turn it all into dull, black, lifeless glass either. Passion is good, but just as it shouldn’t burn you up, turning it into dull hard work is not a good idea. On average I know how to work hard, and be disciplined about it. And I love to focus on my writing, but I must remember, now and then, to step back and let some air, and lightness, enter my life. Maybe even a little fun. Take some time to read other books, someof them  about writing, and let the fire inside grow again.

This means no working on my bigger projects. The blogs can stay though. You see, suddenly there is so much happening in my head, about my writing. It is amazing what a little free-time, some space between me and my writing, can do.

I’m replenishing the well with great effect, so to speak.