In my world, reading and writing have an unfortunate tendency to clash. As a matter of fact, reading often kicks writing’s ass. So last year I made a New Year’s resolution to read less. That didn’t work out so well: I nearly doubled my reading for that year. This year I didn’t even bother with a resolution. I’m kind of resigned to the fact by now that my default mode is reading. I read for entertainment, for information, for research purposes, for inspiration, for an escape from the mundane, and, yes, for procrastination.
I read in the morning, if I don’t want to face the day just yet. I read whenever I need a mental break or I’m stuck. I read during meals even though I know it doesn’t do me any good. I read when I’m done with my day job, just to unwind. All too often, though, that unwinding becomes an excuse not to tackle the harder tasks. Writing, for example.
The insidious thing is that reading’s a necessary foundation for any writer. A prerequisite. A sine qua non. And that’s what makes it so dangerously alluring. You can always justify reading as research or market study or learning from the masters. More often than not, though, that justification’s nothing but an excuse. Finding excuses is a legitimate form of creativity, and I’m well on my way to elevating it to an art form. However, it’s not conducive to living life without regrets; a goal that sits at the very top of my clarity card pyramid.
So what to do? I’ve tried scheduling reading into my day. No go. I’ve tried to fast from reading just as I occasionally fast from food, but the only way I can make it work is to spend the day outside the house and/or socializing. Which, of course, are both fine and necessary endeavors, but they don’t exactly up the word count on my latest work in progress. I’ve also tried the reverse approach: to schedule my writing and make it a non-negotiable commitment. The only problem with that? Arbitrary deadlines and commitments have never worked for me. And the idea of being accountable to a writing-buddy doesn’t spark joy either.
Well, it’s not rocket surgery, but resistance and procrastination sure conspire to make it look that way.
As far as I can figure it out, the underlying question is this: How can I stay productive without disappearing into a book-shaped rabbit hole every time I hit a bump in the road, or struggle with resistance?
The one thing that has worked for me in the past wasn’t related to reading at all. All I did was commit to “300 in 300”. 300 words a day for 300 days. It’s so basic that even my lizard brain could grasp it and never put up much resistance. I marked each successful day in a checklist, and once I got my chain of bright green checkmarks going, I did everything not to break it. I wrote at 4am. I wrote at midnight. Once or twice I fell asleep while writing (surprisingly, not my best work). But I made it. And you know what? There was no guilty conscience – in other words, no regret – and still plenty of reading-time left over.