Words Before and From Me

I've been absorbed in reading books lately. Sucked in so completely that I can't put it down! I love that, thrive on it really. That the need to take in the next word, sentence, paragraph, page could be so enthralling that time slips by blissfully is truly one of the greatest simple joys in life.

But I'm also of the avid belief that reading requires a certain mood, or set of moods. Perhaps it's a range of them. All I know is that it comes and goes like the daily tides ebb and flow, making it absolutely vital to finish a book one month, and then next I couldn't be bothered.

One part of this need to read is that space of time where my own mind is quiet, where the incessant flow of thoughts are calmed and focused on one thing. Being online to read is fine but the internet holds too many distractions, pulls me in too many directions sometimes that I forget how to 'be'.

Reading is a form of meditation for me. It allows me to reflect and wonder and dream and be inspired. And that inspiration is exactly where I am right now because it sparks the need to write from a deeper place within me. It's this fact that I know is propelling me as I start to write my novel.

It's hard to eek out enough real time to write the way I want to some days, but when I do, I find myself wrapped up in the words that pour out of me. To be honest, it's a little dizzying to see it in action and it makes me wish I could be that fly on the wall who could silent and objectively observe. Just out of curiosity.

I can tell when I'm inspired, because not only do I write everything constantly in my head (which means I better get it down quick or lose it), but I feel more eloquent. I can't say myself whether my writing style changes or not, but the process feels different, less hindered.

The beauty of our modern age of technology is that even 7000 kilometres from my home and where all my boxes of books are, I can still keep up and explore reading. For Christmas I got a Kobo Glo, which I absolutely love. Sure, there's nothing like holding a book in my hands, but given my fibro, I'll take the light e-reader over a 1000 page hardcover any day. There are so many titles in my library that are the freely distributed ones that it's hard to decide what to read next. It's just as exciting to peruse my book list as it is to walk the aisles of my library or local book story, looking for something that catches my eye. It's less about the cover of the book, that letting the title capture my attention and beckon me to take a risk. A time when words can trump an image.

I mentioned in my previous blog incarnation that I am a Star Trek fan, so it should come as no surprise that I quite happily delve into those with abandon, and can freely admit that I've read two of them in the last week and was so engrossed that I end up staying up far later than I planned to or should have. Oh well, the inspiration to write that I got was well worth it.

I intend to keep this going too. Some of my other mom friends have formed a book club, which to be honest is just an excuse once a month to get together without our children and drink wine. But we did select a book (The Thirteenth Story by Diane Setterfield) and I've just starting reading the first chapter. I've only read the first page, but already my attention has been captured.

Bliss indeed.