For the Love of Reading

How many times have you ever heard that to be a good writer you need to first be a good [avid] reader?

I’ve lost count myself; I think it was this cliche which I gritted my teeth or rolled my eyes at the most. My annoyance or anyone else’s, however, does not negate the truth behind this advice. It’s a cliche for a reason.

The greatest problem I had overcoming my agitation any time someone mentioned this to me was first admitting to myself I did not read anymore.

Shocking, I know, but a fact.

Growing up, I always had a book in my hands. I know because my dad never failed to remind me. He’s not the reading type, preferring math and numbers like my sister. I took after mum delighting in letters and words and composing sentences and language. Needless to say, it apparently astounded him enough he had to mention it all. the. time.

Only I lost my ravenous appetite around high school. Thank you, summer reading programme. There was just something about being forced to read books I did not enjoy for a grade which felt like sand paper on skin to me. I loathed it. It irritated me so much, I stopped taking AP English, much to the chagrin of my teachers.

And then I went to university. Oy.

Now I didn’t have too much of a problem with the required reading there. It fascinated me enough to whet my appetite again. Unfortunately, I was lazy about it, still fighting the rebellious impulse I developed in high school to not read. Eventually the impulse won, but there was that I time I did go on a binge and devour multiple books regarding topics I didn’t learn about in class: love, relationships, marriage, femininity, sex, etc.

Except all this reading was non-fiction, not fiction. I think I finally did read the entire Chronicles of Narnia during uni, though, but I don’t remember any other fiction.

Okay, why did it take me until college to read the Narnia series? To follow the proverbial bunny down this hopefully “brief” trail (or you could skip the next paragraph), my mother wasn’t exactly keen on my love for all things mythological and magical.

I grew up in a very sheltered house, especially in my youngest days, and magic was a big, very big no-no. If it mentioned a witch or witchcraft, it was forbidden. Thankfully Disney was allowed, to some degree, and some watered-down Greek mythology because of its correlation to Ancient History. On these I feasted, gorging on Western fairy tales alone for years until my love of archaeology opened up to me the realms of other mythologies. I then heard of Narnia around age 10, and read the first one (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe obviously), but there’s a lot which happened to me at the age of 10 which caused me to neglect reading further. Remind me to tell you sometime.

Thus, if my devout mother knew the kind of books I’ve read in the past 2 years, she would probably think I verge on becoming an apostate. I would argue I’ve grown closer to G-d, but that’s a discussion for another day. I will add this is why in my adulthood I’ve read all these classic fantasy novels I could have, should have read as a child. It still pains me I missed so many wonderful stories, such as The Hobbit and other Middle Earth tales, and wonder how they could have influenced me further. Though, I still am who I am today, and even with their absence, I found myself.

How did I find my love for reading again?

Well, one boring, dull day at work, I was checking Facebook, and this add for an Amazon book series came up. They compared it to Cinderella, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and The Phantom of the Opera. I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m *obsessed* with Phantom.

For whatever reason, I decided to check it out since that little voice in my head wouldn’t shut up, saying, “You have to read if you want to be a good writer! You should be reading modern fiction! You need to know what the market is like! When was the last time you read something by someone who was alive?!” Although, we both know it’s probably because they mentioned Phantom.

The series was Air Awakens by Elise Kova, and I was blown away.

Ever since then, I’ve been reading again. Something which remained dormant for too many years in me woke up, and now it’s like I’m a kid again, never without a book in my hands. Just ask my manfriend.

Around this time is also when I started my blog, and since I had started reading again, I figured, “Why not write reviews of the books I’m reading?” That’s when I created the “What’s on my Shelf” posts. Sure, it’s a bit of mouthful amongst other flaws, but the thing I most proud of is when life got a bit stressful a few months ago, while I may have stopped writing those bi-monthly posts, I did not stop reading. That’s why for the next few weeks, to help myself get back in the habit of writing, to build my consistency, I’ll be going back and writing all those reviews I should have.

Now does reading again help my writing? You bet your bottom dollar it does. Only that’s not why I read.

I read because I love to. It’s reading which I first fell in love with, what first put the desire in me to write, for I fell in love with stories and their magic.

Sorry, mum.