Sorry I’ve been MIA lately. I posted quite a bit there for a while, but then got involved with some other projects. And I got distracted. I’ve been reading.

Yeah, I know! That’s crazy talk! What am I doing reading when I’ve got a book of my own to finish, one that’s been on hiatus since before the move.

That’s how it goes sometimes. We wouldn’t be writers if we didn’t love to read. And we wouldn’t know what the hell we were doing if we haven’t done our share of research by reading the work of others. I think that reading is as important as writing, to a writer. Not only because of the mechanics we learn, but because reading is what inspires us to write in the first place.

I haven’t settled down to writing yet in the new home. I lost my little writing nest in the move, and nothing feels right yet. I have plans to set up a corner more suitable for me than on my uncomfortable chair at my desktop. My family is having a big yard sale this weekend, so I can get rid of a bunch of crap and maybe then have some space to breathe and maybe even a comfy chair for me and my laptop.

For those of you waiting for an update to Wyrd House, I’ll get back to it. Just be patient a little while longer. In the meantime, my reading binge is a good sign. It makes me want to write again.

So, my advice to you, my fellow writers, is to read something. If you have been writing like mad, or a bit stuck like me, take the time to read something you enjoy. Take the time to remember why we do what we do in the first place. A writer that doesn’t read is like a diver that doesn’t swim. Sure, you could do it, but it’s not likely to turn out well.

Houck bridge, near the Boone-Hutchingson cemetary.