Falling in

Dear Writer,

Wow. You signed up for the paid subscription. Thank you for that, by the way. I’ll do what I can to make it worth it.

Okay, so… if you’ve read the basic stuff on this site or if you’re familiar with me, you know I went through a pretty heavy trauma a few years back.

Although that’s not really accurate, is it? I’m going through a trauma that I’ve been going through for years and, according to my therapist, I will never not be going through.

It is, as they say, the shit that keeps on shitting.

But this isn’t about that. I have a therapist to talk about that with. No, this is about the problems that come after the trauma.

Dear Writer, I can’t read.

I mean… I can. Of course, I can. It’s just that when I do, I can’t focus.

I can’t fall in.

You know that moment, in fiction, when you fall in, when suddenly you’re high-fiving Hermione in the hallways of Hogwarts or wiping blood spatter off your turkey leg at the Red Wedding or rolling around in a raspberry field having hot sex in the steamy English countryside? You fall in, you’re there, you’re through the looking glass and your dirty laundry and undone dishes don’t exist anymore, because you are with the lion and the unicorn.

Yeah, I can’t fall in anymore. And since falling in is the singular joy of fiction for me, I usually end up putting the books down in frustration before long, or listening on audiobook while I do other things because if I’m not going to fall in, I might as well get the damn dishes done, right?

So, I’ve decided, these paid letters are going to be about the reading, because reading begets writing… which is also a problem we will talk about soon.

Anyway. First step, the 0 to 1: I’m going to read, every night, 20 minutes.

With a timer and everything, Writer. I am serious about this business.

Every week, in these special letters, I’m going to report in to you. Not just the numbers; I read Fahrenheit 451 for 20 minutes on July 3. But the insights, the responses.

Oh, but that’ll mean spoilers.

Huh.

Maybe I won’t tell you the titles and authors of what I’m reading? Maybe I’ll be all vague, like Lady Whistledown. I mean, I am not averse to spoilers because I believe that good stories can’t be spoiled, but there are some pleasures in being genuinely surprised by the turn of events in some narratives, and I think a spoiler policy is a personal decision everyone needs to make for themselves.

I don’t want to ruin anything for you, Writer.

That would be rude.

So, it’s settled. I will read. I will not tell you what I’m reading. I will be vague with any identifying details in my insights and responses, and try to share what wisdom I glean from it without giving too much away. If you want to know, I think you can just respond to this email and it’ll reach me? Will it reach just me, and not the whole list? I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works. It’s a lovely discovery for both of us. Give it a shot; reply to this email and let’s see what happens!

Anyway, once I’ve done the reading for a while, I’ll start writing as well, and report in on that. Things in my life are going to change dramatically in the next few months, so it’ll be a little while before I’m able to do a lot of these things I want to do, but once I hit the ground running, I will run. Perhaps we will all meet at Nanowrimo together? Who’s with me?

But for now, for step 0 to 1, reading. And so, I ask: What are you reading? What’s got you falling in?

Everything,

L