Writers Read and Readers Write

I love to read.  I think that may go without saying.  I used to tear through books as quickly as I could get my hands on them when I was younger.  To say that I was a voracious reader would be an understatement.  My punishments were often having my book of the day taken away.  I would get a new book from the store or the library, and my mother would have to keep it from me until we got home-- she would be annoyed at how far I would get into a book just on the ride home.

And then there was the traumatic Heidi incident.  At my elementary school, we had the AR program.  Certain books were marked as part of the program, and each book had a different point value assigned (the more difficult reading level or length of the book, the more points the book was worth).  When you finished reading the book, you took a test on the library's computer, and your score on the test determined how many AR points you received out of the book's given point value.  I loooved the AR program and would tear through books to get more points.

And then Heidi.  Oh, Heidi.  In fourth grade, I went for Heidi because it had a high point value... but I accidentally read the abridged version.  I had no idea that there was such a thing as "abridged" and "unabridged" books.  Needless to say, the AR test pulled questions from the unabridged version, and to my shame and horror, I failed the AR test.  My reading pace slowed down considerably from then-- I read books so carefully, I take in every word-- if I skip a word and try to pass over it, it eats at me until I go back and reread the entire page.  I don't know if this is entirely Heidi's fault, or if I've just grown to be a more careful reader over time.  Regardless, I've turned into a relatively slow reader.

But I love reading.  I love books so much.  I could write hundreds of blog posts on why I love books to such a degree.  Unfortunately, my commitment to my schoolwork often overtakes the time I would normally dedicate to reading for pleasure.  I have been trying to read more for my own purposes, not for school, but I find it difficult.  And then I tried to tackle Les Mis last summer, and fell short.  I promised that I wouldn't read any other books except those for school until I finished Les Mis (I broke that promise, but only a little).  It was kind of... dare I say... miserable.

So this summer, I made another promise to myself.  I would read 15 books (roughly one for every week of summer).  This would have been nothing a few years ago, but it was a BIG goal for the Erica of today.  I finished Les Mis before my 15 weeks started and then started.  My books were all different lengths (one being quite short indeed...), and I finished 14.5 books in my allotted time.  I'm still working on that last one!  My list does not include the books that I've read so many times I can nearly recite them, which I always pick up on the odd day and polish off passages just for the fun of it.

The purpose of my goal was to rediscover how much FUN reading is.  My creative writing teacher, Ms. Hopkins, told us that if we truly love something, we should have to find time to STOP doing it, not try to make time FOR it.  She was right.  It's something that she said in passing, and I don't think she expected it to resonate with anyone, but it's something that has burrowed its way into my brain and stuck with me ever since.  And I'm proud to say that this summer, I found myself have to convince myself to put my book down and do something else from time to time.  I was immersed in literature again.

I read new things and old things.  I read graphic novels, which I've never done before.  I read an autobiography, which I've never done before.  I read nonfiction, which I normally dislike.  I read a play, which I have only done voluntarily (not for school) once before.  This was another side trip in this journey of bettering myself and getting towards the Erica I want to be.  I'm so glad I did this for myself.  As I learned in 6th grade from my teacher Mrs. North, writers read and readers write.  The two go hand in hand.  And, as part of my journey of bettering myself by exploring
my subconscious and handling my personal issues through writing, I must, of course, write-- and to write better, I must read.

Does that make any sense?  Not only was it important for me to get back to doing something I love, it was also important to include this as an actual step in my journey.  Ironically, I feel horribly scatterbrained and as if I'm not making much sense tonight.  I think I might be repeating myself, too.

I apologize if this blog post is not as well-written as I would normally like, but I've got half an eye on one of my favorite shows, Criminal Minds, and half my attention glancing back at my book, as I try to decide which I want to focus all of my attention on after I post this... ;)

My summer reading, though not in the order in which they're stacked:

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo (finished)
Home by Julie Andrews
A Glamorously Unglamorous Life by Julia Albain
Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
Persepolis 2 by Marjane Satrapi
Twisted by Laurie Halse Anderson (an all-time favorite author!)
Paper Towns by John Green
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak (a new favorite author!)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw
Milkweed by Jerry Spinelli (reread)
The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman (reread)
The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman (reread)
The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman (reread... and not done yet!)