An Odd Writer

Hypothetical situation: What if you were a writer who didn't like to read? Is it possible to be a writer who doesn't like to read?

I can already hear thoughts on this: "Are you kidding me? Who doesn't like to read? Isn't being a writer mean you love reading? Isn't there some sort of major contradiction in being a writer who doesn't like to read? Whoever this writer is, she be major time crazy."

Confession time: I might be that writer.

It wasn't always like that. When I was young (since I'm ancient now), I gobbled up books. The whole reason I started reading was because my older brother wouldn't read more than one chapter a day in a book we were reading together. It annoyed me to no end...so I started to read. And I read. I read a whole lotta books. The original Boxcar Children series, Enid Blyton books, anything on our immense bookshelves that mom would let me read. She always said most of the books I liked to read were 'fluff' at that point so I would have to supplement my reading with the 'We Were There...' books or the Signature books (both historical fiction). Sure, those were a bit tougher, but I read them all the same.

And then high school happened and added responsibilities. Added passions.

I couldn't hardly bear to sit down to simply read. My legs couldn't stand to be still. The stories no longer were engaging enough to relax my muscles and stop time. If I read, it was 'dry' books. Books for high school credit (G.A. Henty. Walter Scott. Histories. Etc.) I hardly read anything for fun. If my mom or someone else said I should read something or gave me something to read, I read it. I read to read, but I didn't enjoy it any longer. And at that point I couldn't see the profit. All my other loves had something to show for at the end of the time spent, but reading? I didn't see the point anymore since I read more books that were simply full of words than ones which awoke adventure or courage or love or yearning.

But that didn't mean I lost my love for story. Maybe I turned more to books for entertainment while growing up because we hardly ever watched movies or television, and then at a certain point, I was watching movies and television shows with my brother every weekend. And these were easy stories. I fell in love with characters. I was in awe how people could create these compelling storylines. These heartbreaking scenes. These humorous exchanges. I let visual arts fulfill my love for stories, even as I continued my fight with words. And maybe that's part of the reason my attachment to books have waned over the years.

I never lost my love for words either. It was still there. There is a magic to words that leaves me in awe. Poetry captures my heart. Depth in song lyrics (Sleeping at Last, anyone?).  How the simplest phrases can leave you with different feelings in your heart (Pinterest definitely helped my love of words).

So maybe it was my expectations that changed. I still wanted to be charmed by magical stories like I was when I was a little girl. I wanted to be enchanted and entirely captured. I wanted to read a book like The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe where when I was told the Lion died, I didn't want to read it anymore because I couldn't bear the sadness. Perhaps that isn't me anymore. Perhaps that isn't even possible. Books with all their wonder cannot meet my expectations or create in me the sensations that other people get from them.

Or maybe it's simply the books I'm reading. Maybe I haven't found the books I need to be reading. I've read a great deal of Historical Fiction over the years, not because I am interested in those types of books that much, but because those types of books have fallen into my lap. Now I realize if I want to be a published writer, I need to know what kind of other books are in my genres of choice (Fantasy or Sci-Fi. Speculative fiction, in general). Maybe if I read more Fantasy, I'll find the magical stories that will charm me because if Fantasy doesn't have magical stories that charm me, what genre will?

Or maybe I should just go back to reading children's books, and then I'll remember. I'll remember what pleased my little girl heart. I'll remember because the whole reason I started writing was so I wouldn't grow up, so I wouldn't have to stop pretending and imagining and creating stories.

Now here I am, trying to refind my love of reading, trying to get lost in the pages of a story enough to find myself in another's shoes, trying to find new favorites because I want to. I really do. But
what if I'm a writer who just doesn't like to read? Is that even possible? Is that alright?