Bill and I have recently wanted to allow room for creativity in our lives again. For me, that translated to this blog. For Bill, writing a poem. I continue to write here; Bill is working on a short story. Both of us notice that we really enjoy spending time on these endeavors. Not that we have much to spare, but if we spend even a few minutes at the end of the day, we are happier.
They say good writers must first be good readers. I have always loved to read. I like to read in bed, and before I was married, usually stayed up way too late reading. Now, time to read feels like a luxury. Or it feels a bit like homework because I am required to read so much for my job.
If reading is like a fur coat and a glittering tiara, writing is like old-friend blue jeans and sneakers made for going somewhere. Reading is rather passive. I sit back and soak up a story someone else poured their heart and soul into. Writing is more active. It is a chance to pour a little of my own heart and soul into something.
Reading asks me to enjoy.
Writing asks me to risk.
Reading is a guaranteed pleasure.
Writing is an uncertain venture.
Reading is a familiar escape.
Writing is a road untaken.
Reading is meeting new friends.
Writing is giving birth to them.
And so it is the comforts of reading and the challenges of writing that spark a desire for more creativity in my life.
Thanks for being around to fan the flame with your interest and encouragement!