If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. It is as simple as that.
from: On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King (See the quote in the book) (Amazon Link)
Teaching is a confronting profession. All day long, a teacher is exhorting the students to 'learn' and to 'grow.' At the end of the day or the week, a teacher looks into the mirror and thinks: "Do I do what I preach?" For me and many of my friends, the mirror speaks back "Not enough."
As I start a writing career ( or skilled avocation ), do I read enough? I read some, but not like when I was younger. I have been seduced by the passive illuminations of Netflix.
So, like many of my students, I have a stable of practiced excuses. I am tired. I taught ten hours today. I am starting an exercise habit. There is ironing. I ran out of garlic butter and had to make more.
I, like many of us, move to the activity of least pain ( at the immediate time). The ironing can be done when I am really tired. The desk can be reorganized while Graham Norton is playing in the background. But, instead of picking up the book, editing the manuscript, listing out character names and backgrounds, I too often choose British interviewers and spray starch as it is less confronting.
It is a matter of setting priorities. I took a self-improvement course when I was younger. One of the things a presenter said was to approach all projects like "your hair is on fire." I thought that was a little extreme ( A LOT EXTREME ) at the time. But there is some truth in that.
I am not in a position where someone else's well being is dependent on my actions. I can almost always but things off. As opposed to my sister. She was a big Jersey girl with gravity defying hair and a "boy" whistle to cat-call "guys who knew how to wear jeans."
Then she had kids. One of the first things to go was the hair. "I just don't have the time," she said. I've always wondered if she kept the whistle.
Anyway, maybe I should approach writing, and life, like I have babies. Force the focus to shift from what I want to what the writing, the design business, and the teaching book needs. Would this take the "ego lid" off of the marmalade jar and allow a proper utensil to get into it, scoop it out, and spread it around?
Gratitudes: Comfortable shoes, som tam, and ice.
from: On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King (See the quote in the book) (Amazon Link)
Teaching is a confronting profession. All day long, a teacher is exhorting the students to 'learn' and to 'grow.' At the end of the day or the week, a teacher looks into the mirror and thinks: "Do I do what I preach?" For me and many of my friends, the mirror speaks back "Not enough."
As I start a writing career ( or skilled avocation ), do I read enough? I read some, but not like when I was younger. I have been seduced by the passive illuminations of Netflix.
So, like many of my students, I have a stable of practiced excuses. I am tired. I taught ten hours today. I am starting an exercise habit. There is ironing. I ran out of garlic butter and had to make more.
I, like many of us, move to the activity of least pain ( at the immediate time). The ironing can be done when I am really tired. The desk can be reorganized while Graham Norton is playing in the background. But, instead of picking up the book, editing the manuscript, listing out character names and backgrounds, I too often choose British interviewers and spray starch as it is less confronting.
It is a matter of setting priorities. I took a self-improvement course when I was younger. One of the things a presenter said was to approach all projects like "your hair is on fire." I thought that was a little extreme ( A LOT EXTREME ) at the time. But there is some truth in that.
I am not in a position where someone else's well being is dependent on my actions. I can almost always but things off. As opposed to my sister. She was a big Jersey girl with gravity defying hair and a "boy" whistle to cat-call "guys who knew how to wear jeans."
Then she had kids. One of the first things to go was the hair. "I just don't have the time," she said. I've always wondered if she kept the whistle.
Anyway, maybe I should approach writing, and life, like I have babies. Force the focus to shift from what I want to what the writing, the design business, and the teaching book needs. Would this take the "ego lid" off of the marmalade jar and allow a proper utensil to get into it, scoop it out, and spread it around?
Gratitudes: Comfortable shoes, som tam, and ice.
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