Reading takes time. A lot of time that I used to have more of. There was a time when I bought a book, say, The Getaway from Jim Thompson, and I would finish it in a night. What is this all about? Buy something to read for pleasure and then the pleasure was over so quickly. What is up with this? I forced myself to read slower. There was nothing to be gained by reading quickly. Now after having a stroke I read even slower. It is too bad that I may only have one reading speed. A fast and a slow would be nice. But I do not and so it is.
I was (finally?) reading On Writing by Stephen King. I do not recall reading King before now. I had seen movies based on his books, “Carrie” comes to mind. None of them inspired me to read him. But here I am reading ON Reading a little late for getting advice about wait a minute, the book is On Writing not Reading, sheese, now you know where my head is at because he spends a lot of time advocating reading.
He is a slow reader. That is his description. He gets through seventy or eighty books a year. (Which I misread as seven or eight books a year) He reads a book everywhere. Waiting in line at the grocery store? He is reading. That applies to any situation. He spends an hour a day on a treadmill, reading. Even driving. Audiobooks before you snort out the coffee you were drinking.
He also goes on a rant about TV. You have heard of authors who would rather do many things besides watch TV. King is among them I enjoyed, as in laughing out loud, at many of hi his statements about watching TV. I will close with a favor
Note:
Reading takes time,
and the glass teat takes too much of it.
– Stephen King, On Writing
Yes, it does take time just like opium does.
— MichaelRpdx :: rkmm 2011-11-23