Reading
I used to be able to finish reading a 400 page book in 3 days. Now, I can’t even read four pages in a day. I used to read a lot. What happened?
The most popular reason for this conundrum is because “you’re always on that phone.”
I’m sure we’ve all heard that popular phrase, usually said with great concern by our parents. No matter what we express, they have the answer to it. You’ve got a headache? It’s because you’re always on that phone. Your neck hurts? It’s because you’re always on that phone. You didn’t eat today? It’s because of that phone. No sleep? It’s that phone.
I hate to admit it as a former avid reader, but my attention span has shortened. Even YouTube videos are too long to focus on. When I watch my favorite show, I can’t keep my eyes on the TV long enough without reaching for my phone. Granted, I re-watch The Golden Girls often, but I realized I can’t keep up with Dorothy’s sarcastic comments without simultaneously watching TikTok’s bite-sized videos.
Reading a book requires all of your attention, and social media has overloaded our cognitive abilities. These handheld devices have corrupted our attention span and programed us to be addicted to quick entertaining videos and scrolling passed copious amounts of content. This has hindered my ability to focus on one piece of content for longer than a few minutes.
At the end of each month, I noticed how many books I didn’t read. I’ve been eager (even desperate) to crawl back to my original former self. To balance out not reading as often (or at all), I kept buying more books, thinking that would motivate me to read. But I only piled them up on my to-read shelf.
When I finally did pick up a book to read, I never reached the end. Granted, I did read a few books, but never at the pace or quality that I used to. Some of the books I started reading, but haven’t yet finished include:
- Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (1932)
- Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (1938)
- The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (1939)
- Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (1597)
- The Laws of Human Nature by Robert Greene (2018)
- The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel van der Kolk (2014)
- Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (1847)
- The Shining by Stephen King (1977)
A part of me always felt like a failure if I haven’t read as many books in a month like I used to. Annual reading challenges didn’t suit my mindset anymore.
The word ‘challenge’ felt like a threat; like a big monster daring me to fight him. I prefer to read for joy, to escape reality, and so I decided to rename ‘Reading Challenges’ to ‘Reading Paradise’— plus, the capitalization makes it feel more official.
Writing
Sometime after my love for fashion and styling outfits, came my interest in books and writing.
I wanted to become a writer since I was ten years old. Daydreams and characters played out in my head and I decided then that writing was a way to get the stories out. Whenever a TV character announced themselves as “a writer,” it always sounded so sophisticated to me. I liked that it suited my big imagination.
At school, I took any chance I got to write fiction for assignments. A student-choice for a free grade: I wrote fiction. A literature essay on my perspective of the story’s end: I wrote it in fiction (even though I didn’t have to… and then I kind of lost my paper). An excruciating boring essay topic in a university class: I wrote it as fiction to make it more fun.
READING + WRITING
In my early twenties, I stopped writing and gradually stopped reading altogether. Every time I read a book, I analyzed the writing style and felt an overwhelming sense of self-doubt in my own skills. Reading wasn’t a joy anymore, and writing wasn’t much fun either. Any aspiring writers out there with a similar experience?
The heft of a book no longer felt like an invitation to a world of copious fantasy and vibrant characters. It felt like a block of anxiety in my hands, showing me what I can’t do for myself: write a book.
This heavy pessimistic mindset weighed me down for years. Eventually, I got exhausted allowing my brain to tell me I can’t do the one thing my ten-year-old self dreamt of. “I want to write a book,” I told Anxiety and Self-Doubt. “I will do it for myself, for the joy of it.”
I’m sure Anxiety or Self-doubt will visit again, as they always do, but the ten-year-old version of me is a little more wide-eyed and optimistic than I am today, and no amount of fear can scare her away from her dreams and determination. You go, little me!
One piece of advice I could give is to take a creative writing course to revive your passion. I took a university Foundations of Creative Writing course and it helped me prove to myself that I am capable of being a writer.
It was a two-month program that boosted my passion and let me work with peers who shared the same interest. The best thing that came out of the course was seeing how much I can write in just ten minutes.
When I completed the program, I received my certificate and promised myself to set ten minutes to write and enjoy the process. I also starting reading for 10-minute intervals as well, to help strengthen my attention span until I can read a full book, cover to cover.
Read to Write
Reading to writing is like peanut butter to jelly. It’s a packaged deal. Nobody really wants plain jelly sandwiches or two pieces of bread with peanut butter. It’s uninspirational.
To be a better writer, you have to read. I tried a different route by tackling writing when I wasn’t reading much at all, and it didn’t work so well. It seems to ring true: you need to read to strengthen your writing muscles.
Writing is like going to the gym if you’re trying to get fit. Without reading, you’re not consuming the necessary nutrients to help build and strengthen your muscles. Reading is like protein, your writing muscles get stronger with it.
I’m just as passionate about writing today. I’ve had some experience in my career as a writer and editor. Several articles and blogs with my name on it float somewhere on the internet.
But still, no book with my name on it (yet). And I think that’s okay. I figured out that I chose to be a writer for myself. If I manage to write a story and share it with the world (or just friends and family), that would be good too.
Comparison will kill your creativity, it will smother your joy, and it will make you doubt your talent. I think we’ve been bombarded with trying to be the best versions of ourselves so often that we forget to simply enjoy the process of creating.
There is no gold star or passing grade. There is just you and the page to read or the words to write. There is no quick scheme to finishing off your to-read pile overnight or to write a book in a week. Everything that is worth it takes time, that’s what I believe anyway. Enjoy the process!