Being able to check books out for six months has had an unexpected side effect: instead of reading books, I now hoard them.
It’s not like I’ve stopped reading entirely — I’m in the middle of Shannon Hale’s Book of a Thousand Days right now (and really like it) — but knowing that any library book I check out won’t be due for six more months makes it all too easy to just let the books pile up. “I can read them later.” And so I hardly spend any time reading. (Granted, I’ve been busy with a few other projects as well, which also contributes.)
I mean, I have 63 books checked out right now. Of those, I’m actively reading two, maybe three. Not 63. I do love surrounding myself with books, and if I were plowing through these books at the rate of a few a week, then the piles wouldn’t be an issue. But I’m scarcely skimming the surface.
So, I’m going to try to return most of these books, focusing solely on the ones I’m actually going to read. I’ll also try to wait to check out more books until I finish the ones I’m reading. I already know I’m going to fail miserably. ;) (Today I checked out Rimsky-Korsakov’s Principles of Orchestration and Berlioz’s Grand traité d’instrumentation et d’orchestration modernes, by the way. Mmm.)
Ideally I’d spend an hour or two each day reading. It’s tempting to get pulled into one of the dozen or so projects I’ve got going on at any one time — most of which need attention — but I’ve noticed that when I slack off on my reading, the quality of my work suffers. Reading is the energy source for everything I do creatively, in a way. No fuel, no fire.
Now if only I had more time… ;)

This post




