I have a confession to make. Awhile back, I said that I would read The Stories of John Cheever this fall. Well… as we are now clearly in the middle of winter, I have to admit that I did not read The Stories of John Cheever. In fact, I only read the first story in that book. I looked at that volume every evening on the nightstand as I got into bed, and I would say to myself, “Tomorrow, I’ll get back to it.”
Yup, I failed at this personal goal. I mean, I didn’t even come close. I wish I could say that I got caught up reading another book, but that isn’t true either. Sadly, my fall and winter reading progress is pretty disappointing.
And if I am to be fully honest with myself, I only finished three books in all of 2020.
I’m not saying this to garner sympathy, or to make excuses. Its more that I want to identify what isn’t working. You can’t write if you don’t read.
What had brought this about is that I am now teaching my daughter how to read, and I want to instill a love of reading. The best way I know to do this is by example, as that is what my parents did for me. It’s not that they told me to read, or made me; reading is what they did for enjoyment.
Gotta get my shit together. For all of us.
Leave a comment