So I recently decided I was going to stop writing and spend between now and Christmas reading - only reading, no writing at all.
How did this go?
Well... I lasted about three days and then found my imagination running a little too wild and in need of reigning in. I'm not sure if other writers have this problem, but I find writing helps me relax and unwind if I've had a particularly full day. I know some people reading this are thinking 'who is this crazy person?' and that's cool, but for me it works.
Having said that about failing to stop writing, I can say I have greatly increased the amount of reading I've been doing lately and significantly decreased the amount of writing. I've also completely put a stop on the next Caterina Boston book for now.
Personally, I've never had a problem with the mysterious 'writer's block'. Instead I follow a rule I read once a long time ago (and unfortunately can't remember where I read it!); instead of stopping, I just keep writing until it starts to make sense. Does it mean I will actually use what I've written? Nope. Will I look back on it in a couple of months and think 'whoa, what was that about?!' most likely... but it doesn't matter.
I recently had a discussion with someone about my decision to write less and read more. It occurred to me during this conversation that it's impossible to know how to write well unless you take the time to stop and learn how others write. Am I going to stop writing my own stuff and start writing fan fiction? No! (No offence to those who do write / read fan fiction, if it works for you, that's cool, but it's not my thing). Someone else asked me if I was reading more for 'research'. I laughed and explained I have no intention of taking someone else's ideas and making them my own.
Why then am I making a point of doing this? Because I have this theory that if you're learning to speak another language you can't just learn the words and never listen to anyone speak them; you can't learn to play piano without every listening to piano music. It's the same with writing. How can you possibly be a good writer without knowing how others write?
Whether you read a book and analyse each sentence for correct punctuation, tense, setting, tone etc or (like me) get so carried away reading that you don't remember turning the pages and wonder how all of a sudden you're at the end of the book, you are still learning how to write by reading.
Ask ten people to explain an event and I guarantee every one of those people will tell the story differently. Each person has their own way of storytelling and I think it's only by reading a variety of writers that you can learn the different ways to express the same story.
I know, I know, I'm sounding a little too philosophical here aren't I? Sorry, please insert your favourite geek quote here [ ] (as an example, 'Bow ties are cool!', 'I don't understand, why do you want me to say my name? 'The ring Sam!' - okay as I've said before, I might reference Lord Of The Rings quite a bit, but I don't actually know that much about it. Not sure that last one is a quote, but I'm sure it's still in there somewhere. Right? Guys?)
Okay, getting off topic here.
I have recently rediscovered the epic-ness that is fantasy novels and have been staying up after midnight most nights thoroughly engrossed in the book I'm reading.
In the last two weeks I have read five and half novels. Okay, the five I've read are from the Tamora Pierce stories I read as a young teenager, so they're only around 300 pages long and the writing is in about size 12, so they're a very easy read, but I'm surprised at how much I really still like the books.
I have also read half of Cassandra Clare's City of Glass (that series has taken me a while to read, but I do enjoy them), have Brandan Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy box set sitting on the kitchen table as well as all the Narnia books (my colleague was shocked to learn I have never read Narnia and perhaps equally as shocked when I admitted I only watched the second movie because I thought Prince Caspian was kinda hot - losing any credibility here aren't I?)
So I guess you could say I'm definitely embracing the reading life lately and plan to continue this way.
As well as established authors, I have recently discovered I like reading the works of undiscovered authors and have therefore spent a little too much time on the awesome www.wattpad.com; a website where writers can post their work, read other writer's work and comment, share etc.
As with a lot of websites of the same ilk, a reader does need to sift through quite a bit to find a book they're interested in, but (excuse the cliché), there are a lot of undiscovered gems on Wattpad. I won't be surprised to see some of the books currently on the website published by the publishing houses in the future.
Whilst there are the usual categories on Wattpad (romance, adventure, horror etc), it is no secret amongst the writers and readers that fantasy seems to be the category of choice. Good thing I'm getting back into fantasy books lately isn't it?
On that note, I am going to be brave and post a small excerpt from a book I started writing ten years ago when I first started work (crazy how fast that time has gone!!). This book was the first fantasy book I completed and it (well the start at least) has been rewritten in so many different ways I'd have to look at the original draft to see how it first started out.
I'd say be kind, but let's be honest, I can deal with it.
Until next time, read a lot, write if you feel like it, and live long and prosper (wait... what?)
The night was dark; lightning cracked around the port of Shelldorne.
Sir Jett Logan squinted against the rain lashing the buildings, the gas lamps swaying wilding in the wind whipping through the laneways. He pulled his coat tighter and sighed; it had been a long, cold night.
Resigning, he turned his horse and headed slowly back along the cobblestone to join his men, they couldn’t stay out in the weather all night; it was time to retire to the inn until the rain slowed.
Unknown to Sir Logan, nearby, a horse and rider tore through the streets, the horse’s sides streaked with sweat, his eyes wide with fear.
Seek sat upon Onyx, her mind whirling, her heart beating hard. She swore under her breath as she guided the black gelding around the corner and ignored the aching in her shoulder and body. She knew the wound was bleeding, but she would deal with it when she had time. Putting her head down against the rain stinging her cheeks, she cursed the weather, cursed the day and cursed her indifference.
One moment of complacency was all it had taken; one moment of not watching her back, of daring to try and live a normal life and she had put herself out in the open again.
She had been travelling for days, trying to shake the man in the long dark coat, her former trainer.
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