An idea "flew into my funnel" today. (I can only use toddler references these days as my brain is turning to mush.) For the past two days, I've been reading a book for pleasure. I want to write that again. For the past two days, I've been reading a book for pleasure. The autobiography I Am Malala has swallowed me whole, and I've made it through 130 pages while working on a product for TeachersPayTeachers and chasing an active, curious, mischievous, loud, messy, clutter-producing toddler. He ran by me once--naked, wearing Halloween vampire teeth--but I was undeterred.
So, back to that idea in my funnel. It's not new, but I believe all revelation has to be personal. It's this: I must read as much as I write. On becoming a mom, I all but gave up reading for pleasure. I find that I can't stay with a book for any length of time, and if I can't completely forget where I am, it's no fun. Today, the fleeting thought that prompted the revelation was this one: I should be writing, not reading. Reading is a luxury. It's a lie.
I have felt more relaxed in the last two days than I have in weeks. Consequently, there's room in my head for ideas. As writers, we can't sacrifice pleasure for production.
