Category: reading life (Page 1 of 11)

A Lesson in Dependency

This morning, as I made ready to drive into work, I tried opening my Hoopla app. Error messages ensued. I tried again. More errors. I tried a third time. Errors all the way down.

I grew frustrated. I considered deleting and redownloading the app, but the clock was ticking on my commute (I was still in the driveway, mucking about with the broken Hoopla app). I gave up and drove in while listening to NPR. The Marketplace Morning Report is not my jam, but I made do. S&P 500, NASDAQ blah-dee-blah, trade wars with India now. I let the financial news wash over me, but I was not happy.

I’ve been listening to a really good audiobook lately, and my kids have finally started to groove to A Horse and His Boy.

Alas.

So I tried again on the drive home from work. No more error messages, but clicking the login button does nothing. Bupkis. I click again. Nada. This time, I DO delete the app and redownload it, and still, there is no signing in. Everything seems ready and right for signing in, but the actual signing in, the clicking of the signing in button results in no response. Username and password looking lovely in their little login fields, but clicking of “LOGIN” not so lovely.

I check to see if others are having this problem. They are. Posting on X, Hoopla even apologized for technical difficulties around seven hours ago. It is a known issue.

And yet, I tried the login again. Tried typing in the password instead of letting my autofiller do it. Tried Googling again for answers.

This was futile, and I knew it would be, and yet I did it anyway.

Why did I do it? Why was I still trying to open Hoopla when I knew it was down, by the company’s own confession? Why was I sitting in my car in the parking lot at work for a good solid five or so minutes when I knew none of my efforts would bear fruit? Why did I try again when I got home, sitting for another five minutes in the garage, trying to login and relogin in, and delete the app and redownload the app, the same non-response as before, the same inoperability?

By my own unscientific count, I’d spent a good fifteen minutes trying to get Hoopla to work today, and no, fifteen minutes isn’t a super-long time, but it’s still time–time I could have spent listening to an Audible book or podcast, time I could have spent listening to music, time I could have spent in silence or thought or deep contemplation or simply driving on the road and getting to work/home a little faster. I wasted that time on trying to troubleshoot the stupid app instead of moving on with my life and doing something else.

And even more, I wasted energy and thought and emotion on this trivial thing. So what if Hoopla’s not working today? It’s not like I don’t have a lot of other ways to occupy my mind on the commute. It’s not like I don’t have other ways of listening to audiobooks. I might not love Marketplace Morning Report, but now I know just a little bit more about farmers learning how to adapt to climate change by using more eco-friendly agricultural practices. That ain’t nothing. I have a wealth, a king’s ransom worth of books and music and media of all sorts in my house and in my classroom, and even my radio is a wealth of music and ideas and information, and yet here I was spending time and energy and emotion on worrying about Hoopla.

Would I be sad if Hoopla disappeared? 100%. I love how many audio and ebooks I’ve discovered through the app.

But it’s not like I don’t have access to audiobooks and ebooks and regular book-books in other ways. I’m whining to myself about Hoopla when twenty years ago I would have had none of this plethora of literary media to choose from.

And this is why digital technology of every stripe–electronic technology really–is so frustrating. We come to rely upon it, and when it doesn’t work, when it goes down, when the power is cut off or the system crashes, we’re lost.

I mean, we’re not literally lost, but we feel lost. Bereft. We mash buttons and refresh pages and unplug and replug and do all the other things that are supposed to solve the problem, and as we do, our frustration grows at being cut off from the formerly-instantaneous pleasure machine.

Think about what happens when the internet goes out. When the power dies in a wind storm. When the app crashes.

We growl and grumble and spend fifteen precious minutes of our day trying to get back on, hook back up, return to the smooth seamlessness of our former digital lives.

Even now, I’m writing a ranty blog post about it. The Hoopla app’s crash has infected even this moment of my life.

It’s all so silly. I know I’m wasting time worrying about it. And yet my response to these things is always, “There must be a way to fix it!” As if I have any power in this situation.

I am powerless. And it is this powerlessness that is worst of all. It’s why I spent all that time in my respective driveways. I was trying to regain power. To fix the thing.

But I can’t fix the thing. Apps and electrical power grids are not things I can fix. Internet outages and system malfunctions are not things I am equipped to handle. I need experts. I need people in far-off places, with more expertise, with a desire to help, to help me.

The crashing of the Hoopla app is a lesson in my own dependency.

Maybe that’s why I raged against it all day. To be confronted with my helplessness. To face a thing I couldn’t fix.

Because I’m a person who wants to fix things, and when I can’t fix something, I rebel. The world is wrong. There must be a way. I’ll figure it out. Just give me a minute. I’ll solve this.

But I can’t solve the Hoopla app’s malfunction. I can’t solve so many problems of my modern, digital life. All these things are beyond my control. I must rely upon the kindness of strangers.

I’m sure they’ll fix it. Eventually.

But until then, I’ll have to accept my own vulnerability and imperfection. And recognize there are some things in this world I cannot fix.

Goal Update: October 2025

It’s been awhile. I’m going to try and be as upbeat as possible, but the results speak for themselves: I haven’t achieved most of my goals.

And yet! I’ve achieved some, and that ain’t nothing. Failing to success, right? Would I have achieved even these small things if I hadn’t set myself the goals?

Some may argue that yes, I would still have achieved these few things. And perhaps that’s true. Doing small actions every day does tend to add up to bigger things. My students who are writing for five minutes at the beginning of every class are seeing that happen in real-time. Their notebooks are filling up and they can’t quite believe it.

But there’s a part of me that thinks the simple act of articulating the goals helps me understand what my small actions are in service to. For my students, the daily writing added up to a class party (which we just had last week). For me, the daily/regular actions have added up to the completion of a couple of goals and slight progress on a few more. Again: that ain’t nothing.

What This All Means is precisely that it’s good to have some end goals, but it’s also good (better?) to keep plugging away. Achieving the goals isn’t the measurement; doing the small actions is. And not giving up. That’s important too.

Which is all to say that I’m writing this to self-assess, yes, but even more so, I’m writing this to remind myself that I must keep going. Even in a year’s time, I’ve accomplished things. Not much, but some.

And some is better than none.

Finish writing Norse City Limits (urban fantasy novel): I must admit that I’ve dropped the ball on this. I’m in that messy middle part in which I loathe every choice I’ve made thus far and feel utterly unsuited to the task of writing a novel.

I’ve taken a pause, honestly. Partly because I need to go back and reread and take better notes on what’s happened, but also partly because I think I need to do more reading/research. The Idea Well has run a bit dry. Problems of output are problems of input, and my Norse mythology/film noir input has been anemic these days (months?). I need to get back in touch with that part of myself.

The difficulty? I’ve started a few new projects and those are vying for my time. I feel the heat to work on them, whereas NCL has grown a bit cold.

I was worried about this, especially over the summer, when the novel was really stalled, but I’ve since made peace with it. This feels like how I work. I’m a multi-book reader, and I’m seeing how I’m really a multi-book writer too. It’s not the most efficient way of doing things, and maybe I need to retrain myself to write with white-lightning heat to finish a novel in a month or two or something, but for now, it seems that my process is more meandering.

It’s not like I haven’t been writing.

Maybe not as many words per week as I’d like, but I’m still writing. I’m finishing stories, I’m starting new stories, I’m writing Substack posts, and blog posts. I’m writing almost every day. Maybe not consumable words, but words that could turn into something later (I use my notebook/morning pages writing for ideas all the time).

I’m trying really hard to stop making demands on my Creative Voice. Instead of saying, “I must write this next chapter of __________,” I sit down at the computer, open a few documents (again, intuitively without deliberate thought), and I start cycling back through a story or start with a fresh page and new words, and I let the Creative Voice do its thing.

In fact, that’s precisely how I started this blog post. I let myself start writing what I felt like I needed to start writing, and an update on my writing goals is where Creative Voice led me.

It takes a great deal of trust in this process to operate like this, but I’m trying to trust it.

A bit like my insight on “inventing the process”: I need to stop prescribing the word count (or the work that “must” be done) and simply do what my Creative Voice wants to do. A story doesn’t have to be x-number of words long. I need to stop even thinking about stories as being “short,” “novella,” “novel,” etc. before I start writing them.

Maybe that’s the trouble with NCL? Maybe I committed to “a novel,” before I really had any idea what my Creative Voice wanted to do with this particular character in this particular world.

Well, anyway, I’m almost 50,000 words into the thing, so it must be something longer than a short story. What that thing is, though, I’m not sure yet. Maybe my idea that it must be 100,000 words long or whatever is getting in my way. Or maybe it’s shaping up to be 200k words or more… I certainly have enough story threads going and no idea how to weave them to a satisfying conclusion… It could end up being a door-stopper!

I’m somewhat tempted to throw a bunch of words out. Partly because I feel like certain choices bug me and I don’t like where they led me, but at the time, I didn’t have the courage to go back and redraft from those (seeming?) missteps. Do I have the courage now? Or is this just a way to avoid finishing?

I don’t think it’s a way to avoid finishing. I think it’s my intuition telling me that maybe I need to trust my gut and not keep putting lipstick on a pig.

Maybe I need to do that process reassessment after all and write with lightning heat…

What would that look like?

New Goal: Write an epic fantasy for middle grade readers/my kids (a novel about dragons): This came about because I wanted something for my kids to enjoy that went a little deeper than the dragon books they were bringing home from the library/Scholastic book fair.

I wanted them to have something like I had as a kid, a fantasy series that was epic and archetypal that also didn’t feel watered down. I’m a bit inspired by Katherine Rundell’s thoughts on children’s books and her novel The Explorer in particular, which we listened to as a family on audiobook.

This new dragon fantasy is partly why NCL is on hold.

As I’m typing all this out, I’m thinking I need to heed my own insights about writing one thing with lightning heat… I started this novel (working title: Shards of Stolen Breath) over the summer, and now it’s October and I’m only on Chapter 5. Maybe I need to write with white-heat and finish it as quickly as possible. My boy Thoreau always said, “Write while the heat’s in you.” Don’t let the fire die (hello, dragon pun, I see you).

What does it look like, for me, to write with white-heat?

Does it look like finishing a chapter a day? Write for thirty days, you got yourself thirty chapters. But what if Creative Voice doesn’t want to write a chapter a day? What if she wants to work on that other story that’s been brewing over here for a bit?

Okay, well, I just got done saying I wouldn’t boss my Creative Voice around, but I also wonder if Creative Voice would want to work on Shards every day if I actually, you know, thought about Shards every day. If I wrote about it in my morning pages, and took notes on it throughout the day, and dreamed about it at night.

I have a problem with daydreaming. I’m not doing it enough. I’m crowding out my thoughts with worries and a million other things. I need to schedule some daydream time.

Like, deliberately sit down (or go for a walk) and think about the story. Think about Shards.

I’ll admit that I’ve always been intrigued by guys like Moorcock (and Sanderson too) who can write something in a few days/months. Sanderson has spoken about this before. Write the novel as fast as you can, before the fire dies.

I like systems. I’m tempted to make this system for myself. The daydream about something, write it as quickly as possible, don’t let the fire die. Keep daydreaming so the fire stays stoked. (I swear I’m not writing all these dragon/fire puns on purpose.)

Isn’t it funny how writing all this out has led to insights? I hope they’re insights.

Finish writing Ysbaddaden and the Game of Chess (second book in Merlin series): Similar to NCL, this one is on hold. Perhaps it’ll be faster to redraft from word one on this as well. I’m tempted, mightily tempted to redraft from word one both NCL and Ysbaddaden.

Do I have the courage to try it? Enough of a fool?

Finish a short story set in my sword and sorcery world: Not yet.

Finish a short story about a mother who learns a terrible secret about her son: Not yet.

Finish a short story set in my Children of Valesh universe: Not yet.

New Goal: Finish a short story set in my magical music academy world: Not yet, but almost! I started a story called “Bronwyn Harper” a little while back and I’m getting close to finishing it. Between this story and Shards, I’ve been writing steadily. I also finished a random short story about a dragon egg and submitted that to Writers of the Future, so I need to remember that I haven’t been idle simply because I haven’t finished one of my big novels.

Publish my short story collection: Yes, I did it!

This was a big goal for me in 2025, and I’m happy to report that I met it. A bright spot for sure. It took me longer than I’d hoped, but the key thing is that I did it.

Finish a novella in my City of Ashes series: Not yet. Maybe never? This was a thing my Creative Writing students challenged me to do, but I’m not loving it. Time will tell.

Blog every day: I am not blogging every day, but I am still blogging. I like that this is a place I can continue to return to. I still aspire to blog every day, but it’s okay if I don’t.

Send out Substack newsletter every two weeks: Not yet, but I’m getting better. I’m prioritizing it a bit more. I’m looking through my notebook each week with an eye toward what can go on the Substack, and I’m loosening up my internal “rules” for what I should write about. The topics and essays are a little more wide-ranging, and I find this suits my personality and writing goals better.

Play more role-playing games with my kids, my husband, family, and friends: This is happening and I couldn’t be happier! I just played a one-on-one session of Caverns of Thracia with my eight-year-old son the other day, and it was glorious. And now that my Dolmenwood stuff has arrived, I’m ready to start up campaigns with family and friends. As a family, we’ve been playing Mausritter, Hero Kids, and DnD 5e.

I’m also playing in a regular Shadowdark game, and I’m running Thracia as an open table at a FLGS.

This has been an unqualified success.

Create some RPG modules for Norse City Limits and Merlin’s Last Magic: Not yet.

Make a “Saturday Morning” zine series and publish an issue every month: Not yet.

Make other zines: Not yet.

Read more books with my kids (Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Half-Magic, James and the Giant Peach, the Hobbit, the Silver Chair, Horse and His Boy, Magician’s Nephew, Last Battle, more Little House books, How to Train Your Dragon series, Harry Potter): I was doing this, and then we stalled, and now I’m ready to make this a priority again.

I think we need to force our kids a bit on these. They are sometimes reluctant to listen to these older books, but we think it’ll be good for them. First up, NIMH and A Horse and His Boy, then a retry with The Hobbit.

Start naalbinding again (finish the hat I started for my son and make another one for my other son): Ugh, not yet. I want to prioritize this. My son’s head will be too big if I don’t finish soon!

Practice my cartooning/comics drawing (for the zines): Hmm… a bit? Not much, though. Need to do more daily drawing.

Start a podcast: This is a new goal, but I have an idea I’m excited about and which I think my readers will really like. New goal for 2026 is to actually record the episodes and maybe even launch.

Write essays, poems, and fiction that will serve as models for my students next school year: Not much, and I’m wondering if I want to keep this as a goal. I’m not saying I never do this, but I don’t think I need to set it as a goal for myself. I can write things as needed and dictated by the students I have each year. But making it a personal goal feels like an unnecessary step. I’ll do the work if I need to as part of my day job; no need to “focus” on it here.

Bonus achievement: The dragon egg story I wrote on a whim and submitted to WotF. I was using a writing prompt, thinking it would just be an exercise, and then it turned into a whole story. Just goes to show that “practice” for writers can turn into real work (as is true for nearly all artists). Who knows if it’s any good, but I had fun writing it.

Input Update 7/23/2025

Reading: More Than Words by John Warner

Also reading: Fantasy: A Short History by Adam Roberts

Also, also reading: The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Listening to: When We Were Wizards podcast

Watching: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (with the kiddos)

I am also in the midst of reading a lot more books but they’ve somewhat cycled out of the daily rotation, whereas the three listed above are the current “in-progress” reads.

My backburner books are Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (a book I’m planning to teach this Fall semester), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (see the Alice parenthetical), The House of Mirth (also a work book), and the Collected Fantasies Vol. 2 of Clark Ashton Smith (NOT a work book).

Sometimes I worry that I’m reading books for the sake of marking them off my list, reading as quickly and as relentlessly as I can. So far this summer I’ve finished twelve books. I enjoyed them all, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I didn’t absorb them as well as I could have.

I’m not sure of the remedy. I read so quickly because I have so many books I want to read. I try to “read at whim” as Alan Jacobs suggests, but sometimes that “whim” is dictated by what I need to read for work, or what feels like it could be useful for work. Or what the book club wants to read. Or what I feel I “need” to read because it’s been on the shelf for so long.

So maybe I don’t read at whim at all. Which might be why I feel that pressure. I am reading less at whim and more haphazardly, I guess. Whatever falls in my lap, whatever I need to read for work, whatever attracts me like a shiny object attracting a cat. And then the books I REALLY want to read (so I tell myself), end up going unread.

Lo, these many years, I have searched in vain…

…until now. At long last, I think I’ve found it. The book I read as a kid and could never remember its title.

At first I thought it was The Sleeping Dragon.

Then Quag Keep.

Then The Twilight Realm.

Then Demons Don’t Dream.

But none were right. I remembered the book was about a group of young people sucked into a role-playing game, but with each foray into these old 1970s/80s paperbacks, I grew less and less confident that I would find the right book, the one from my faded and unreliable memories.

I knew it had a blue cover.

I knew it had people from our world transported into a fantasy game.*

I knew it had to be from the late eighties or early nineties because I read it when I was roughly ten or eleven.

And I knew that it had seemed a bit too “old” for me at the time. Like, I remember the choices of the characters and the conflicts making me feel somewhat uncomfortable at times. I don’t know if it was relationship/sex-type stuff, or just moral grayness, but I remember keeping my reading on the QT. Or maybe I was embarrassed by the role-playing aspect, something I wasn’t sure my parents would approve of…

But over the years, as I’ve Googled what I could remember and crawled through message boards and blog posts, I simply couldn’t find the right book.

Honestly, I figured it must have been one of the aforementioned books and my memories were just faulty or making shit up.

And yet… the niggling feeling in the back of brain wouldn’t go away. I still wanted to know… still wanted to find the book…

Reader, I think I’ve found it.

I’m not sure why my morning scroll through Pinterest looking for old Dragon Magazine covers and fairy tale fantasy illustrations made me think of this book again, or my quest to find it, but I decided to do another round of Google searches and see what might come up.

The keywords were the usual: “portal fantasy,” “role-playing game,” “dice magic,” “1980s,” and yet, for whatever reason, this time, I lighted upon an rpg message board where someone had asked a similar question: Looking for a book… kids transported into a game… can’t remember the title… etc.

I scrolled through the thread. Same old, same old. Quag Keep. The Sleeping Dragon.

And then. Could it be this series by Kevin J. Anderson? Gamearth series? Gamearth, Game Play, Game’s End?

As soon as I saw the title, Game Play, it was like a little chink in my stone wall plunked out, and then the whole edifice crumbled.

Game Play.

I looked it up.

Blue cover.

An RPG that comes to life.

Kids from our world.

Came out in 1989. I would’ve been eight. Maybe nine when I encountered it.

And that cover. It gave me the shivers. Familiar and strange. Like deja vu or a memory or a dream.

*Apparently, my memory is a little faulty because I’m not sure the kids from our world go INTO the game, but instead, the game comes to life. But everything else from the book description sounds bang on. Even the names–Melanie, David, Hexworld–sound right.

A memory conjured from a darkened abyss. Hexworld. Game Play. The blue cover.

I have to find a copy now and read it. Anderson has republished the series but with revisions, so I don’t want to read the newer version. I want the old 1989 one. The one from my childhood.

I am almost 100% certain it will not live up to my memory of it. I don’t even think I liked it as a kid, only that it captivated and intrigued me. It felt weirdly forbidden when I was ten (eight? nine?). I know it will not seem so forbidden or “adult” now to the real-adult me, but I don’t care. I have to find a copy and read it.

I think, at long last, I have found the forgotten book. My quest is nearly complete.

Just goes to show what a fantasy novel, even a probably so-so fantasy novel, can mean to a kid.

Thoughts on The Motern Method

I liked it. Well-worth reading and owning.

However, if anyone has spent any time at all reading Heinlein’s Rules or exploring corners of the internet where these Rules are being lived out, a lot of the concepts in The Motern Method will sound familiar.

Which doesn’t mean it’s not worth reading. IT IS.

But it wasn’t particularly revolutionary for me. Parts of it reminded me of Make Art, Make Money: Lessons from Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career. Parts of it reminded me of Ray Bradbury’s long-standing advice on quantity over quality in one’s art-making. And parts of it reminded me of Heinlein’s Rules.

One thing it also reminded me of is my previous desire to be an independent filmmaker. If The Motern Method was anything for me, it was a reminder that I once wanted to make movies and felt like I didn’t have the resources, and that maybe I need to let go of such thinking and try to make a movie no matter the lack of money or equipment.

I’m not saying I’m going to start making independent films. But… maybe?

The other thing I like about the book is that it collects a lot of advice into one place. Sure, there are Heinlein’s Rules and the books and authors I referenced above, but when I need a quick pep talk, The Motern Method is right there, with all the stuff.

For instance, I got a rejection the other day from a short story market. And yeah, yeah, rejections are part of the deal, right? I’ve had many rejections before, so you’d think I’d brush it off and no big thing.

But I was bummed. In a funk.

And that rejection was followed by another rejection (different story, different market). So again, you’d think, “But that’s great! You’ve got two stories out for submission and even with the rejections, all you need to do is send them out to two more magazines and keep going!”

And that’s exactly the right advice, but my brain doesn’t always operate on logic. My brain sometimes spirals into depths of self-doubt and loathing that are like the black pits of Tartarus, just roiling under the surface waiting to bubble up.

I know rejections are part of the gig, and I know all I need to do is send the stories out again. But knowing and believing are two different things.

Enter The Motern Method.

I remembered that Farley had a few chapters on rejections and getting your work out into the world (again, very Heinlein-esque), so I flipped to those pages and started reading.

It was basically a pep talk, and it worked. My brain stopped its death-spiral, and I felt renewed. Getting my work out into the world is what matters. Getting your work out into the world is what matters. Can’t let rejections stop that. Gotta keep going.

Sure, I could have gone online and googled Heinlein’s Rules again, or tracked down similar publishing advice, but having Farley’s book right at hand, its minimalist, indie-punk black and white cover reminding me that artists can work outside the mainstream system, made it easier to read what I needed to read.

I love the book’s aesthetic. No author is mentioned anywhere but on the spine. No introduction, no table of contents. The book just starts, each section indicated by bold-font titles, and then it ends, with Farley narrating his creative journey, explaining how the Motern Method was developed and how it helped him write the book.

Some sections are ones I quibble with a bit. “Read the comments. Read the reviews”? Maybe for others, but for me, this is DEATH. Both good comments and bad, good reviews and bad, tend to hurt my Creative Voice. It doesn’t mean I’m not an idiot who sometimes reads the reviews, but I always hate myself afterward.

Farley’s larger point — that reading the reviews will toughen you up, show you that taste is relative and not to worry if people don’t “get” your work — isn’t a bad one, but I know for my own ego, reviews can get inside like brain worms and infect my process.

But overall, the book is a rallying cry, a manifesto.

And it is very punk. Which I dig.

I’ll be keeping The Motern Method on my writing desk. When I’m stuck, when I’m down, when I need a kick in the pants, it will be my go-to.

News Fast

I wasn’t going to do a news fast because I thought it was important to pay attention to all the crazy stuff happening since January (since November, really). I thought consuming news was crucial to keep abreast of STUFF. Stuff that’s important. Stuff that’s going to hurt people (is hurting people). Stuff that’s going to be pretty forking bad, so I needed to know all the stuff. Or most of the stuff. Or, heck, just some of the stuff.

But I’ve decided there’s no way to dip my toe into the sludge of stuff without getting sucked in. A little bit of news, even just a check of the headlines or whatever, is enough to send me off into the vast, ugly maw of all the hellscape stuff that’s happening right now, and I just–

I can’t.

A little bit of news suddenly becomes a lot of news becomes too much news. So I’m cutting myself off from the news.

Near-total fasting. Occasionally a crumb from a newsletter (that isn’t normally political) will wedge itself between my teeth, but other than those stray, unintentional crumbs, I’m going off the news.

In fact, I unsubscribed to a bunch of newsletters just so I could shut out the world.

I blocked the New York Times and Reddit on all my devices.

I marked “Not interested” on every slightly newsy/political video that pops up on Youtube.

The only radio that passes my ears is the local classical/jazz station or a music show on WDET.

Total. News. Fast.

I don’t know how long this will last, but I can report on how it’s been for the past two weeks.

Reader, it has been glorious. Maybe not for the world, but for my sanity. For my writing and creativity. For my mental and physical and spiritual health. For nearly everything.

It has not been easy, or at least, it wasn’t easy the first week. Fasting from the news meant a total reorientation of how I spend my days and my time. Cutting out the news without filling my time with something better is a recipe for lapses and failures. As such, I’ve been listening to more audiobooks and RPG-related podcasts. I’ve spent spare moments reading my kindle or a library book.

I’ll admit, there are times when I really don’t feel “ready” to commit the mental energy needed to listen to an audiobook, or I resist the “slowness” of reading a book. There’s no clicking of links. No jumping from outrage to outrage. It’s been revelatory that I’m so resistant to sustained reading. I never thought I would be someone who would resist reading a book.

But that’s what happened (and still happens) once I started the news fast. The prospect of picking up a book to fill that time (time once-filled by Reddit and NYTimes articles and such) has become a daunting prospect. I realize now how “light calorie” the news was for me. Easy to digest. Not nutritious, but if I ate enough, eventually filling. A sick, greasy filling, but enough so that I would be satiated.

Reading or listening to an audiobook instead has meant a bit of struggle at the beginning. I resist. But then, it’s either listen to a book or read one or simply sit with my thoughts, and I realize that all three of those is preferable to the news, so I sometimes do sit with my thoughts, or jot down ideas in my pocket notebook. And sometimes I open the kindle just to peruse and suddenly find myself pulled into a story or essay. Or I’ll open that audiobook of Ray Bradbury stories that I’ve been neglecting and before I know it I’m crying or cheering or overwhelmed with awe, and it was all worth it, that initial struggle, that bit of resistance: I’ve pushed through it to the somewhat “harder” pleasure of reading a book and found the reward to be much greater than any I’ve ever had with reading the news.

I’m not sure the news fast can be sustained indefinitely. I may, with time, start listening to the radio again, just to keep up. But I might continue to block the news websites and be much more selective about the podcasts I listen to. I’ve gotten better at filling my spare time with reading (and not news); I don’t want to lose my new-found ability to engage with the deeper, harder pleasures of books. The spare moments don’t have to be filled with news and outrage. They can be filled with reading. Or thinking.

Or with nothing at all but quiet.

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