After rushing around the last few days I have been relaxing this morning and reflecting that I haven't read much for the last six months. I have a tower of books teetering dangerously on the corner of my desk and I'm tempted to pick up some of the more intriguing titles, have a read fest' and not surface for a week. I confess that, silly as it sounds, I'm terrified of being influenced by someone famous, being sued for plagiarism and ending up in the jail for naughty writers. In an effort to sort out my dilemma, I've been reading the thoughts of other authors to see what their opinions are.
"It's all very confusing," I tell The Husband, "There's so many different views."
"What sort of views?"
I begin to read, "Sometimes, I think a writer should make up his mind whether he's going to be a writer or a reader. There isn't time for both." I say quoting from Paris Review.
"Who said that?" he says looking up from the Sunday paper.
"The writer Jessamyn West."
"Hmmmm."
"But then apparently Stephen King reads and writes for four hours respectively every day." If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write," he says."
"I'd go with Stephen King," The Husband says sagely, "Haven't heard of the other name so that probably tells you everything you need to know."
Simple logic maybe but I didn't need much persuading. It's like being reunited with a long lost friend. I have been lying on the sofa reading books all afternoon reading. It's been a nice change from trying to disentangle my own plot. The Husband says he can hear my 'voice' when he reads anything that I've written, so even if it's not a piece of literary genius it's still mine. Let's hope he's right. I've just entered a short story I've written for a competition, the theme was "Home Tomorrow." Someone said to me recently "make the words your own even if it means having to eat them." Hmmmm.
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