Yesterday and today I went to a conference held in downtown Columbus, at the Convention Center. I bused to and from each day and was thinking on today's ride home about how much I missed riding transit regularly. I do love walking to work, don't get me wrong, but as I stood in the bus shelter tonight, reading my book, I forgot how I enjoyed riding transit. When I lived in Chicago, I rode the train everyday, and sometimes the bus. What I miss is the not having to think about my transport and the reading. Really, this post is about reading and how I miss the chunks of time I had everyday to devote to it, as I commuted to and from work. There was a good period of time where I got really into short story collections, because they were the ideal length for my commute. I read so much. I miss reading that much. I do not make time for it at the moment, and I should.
Currently I am slowly reading two books, and they are both very good for the short little morsels of time I am giving them. The first is Several short sentences about writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg and I am not quite halfway through with it but can safely say that I love it. I got it from the library, but I am going to buy a hardcopy of it, because this is a book I will want to read again. Really, I think you could just pick it up at any point and read for a bit and be perfectly happy. It is about writing, reading, noticing, and thinking about all three. It's written in sort of a free verse format, which I adore, and which makes it great for reading it in little bites, as I have been doing over lunch or breakfast. It's useful and already has me thinking about my own writing (and reading and noticing) habits. I want to give it to several people. I keep talking about it. Check it out. Here's the first page, to entice you:
Here, in short, is what I want to tell you.
Know what each sentence says,
What it doesn't say,
And what it implies.
Of these, the hardest is knowing what each sentence actually says.
At first, it will help to make short sentences,
Short enough to feel the variations in length.
Leave space between them for the things that words can't really say.
Pay attention to rhythm, first and last.
Imagine it this way:
One by one, each sentence takes the stage.
It says the very thing it comes into existence to say.
Then it leaves the stage.
It doesn't help the next one up or the previous one down.
It doesn't wave to its friends in the audience
Or pause to be acknowledged or applauded.
It doesn't talk about what it's saying.
It simply says its piece and leaves the stage.
This isn't the whole art of writing well.
It isn't even most of it.
But it's a place to begin, and to being from again and again.
If you write at all, for work, for fun, or read, or love language, or know anyone that does, pick it up for you or a friend. It's really excellent.
The second book I'm slowly reading is Walt Whitma's Song of Myself, which I also think lends itself to slow consumption. I have two copies: one from the library by my bed and a cheap-o Dover edition by the toilet. I'm reading it slowly, and often re-reading passages as I go. I love it. I have also been trying to incorporate more poetry into my life, and I find a poem (or snippet of one) before bed is an excellent tonic for the mind.
Recent Comments