Ah, love…

Engraving of a Reading Group.
Engraving of a Reading Group. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Find me a writer who doesn’t love to read and I’ll … I’ll … uh … I”ll paint myself green and pretend to be an Orion Dancing Girl for my husband.

I wouldn’t suggest trying to prove me wrong because I’m a horrible dancer by the way and he’s not fond of that color of green.

The point is that reading, I think, has spurned if not all then many a writer into being a, well, a writer.  I fell in love with reading as a child, thanks to my Dad, who would let me sit on his lap as he read and I struggled to keep up.  He’s, by the way, how I learned to be a fast reader.  I had to be to keep up with his page flipping.  That was between then age of 7 and 9.  Now that I’m Thirty-(cough) I find that while my time for reading is limited, but when I do it…ah, love.

Yesterday, after my short blurb of a post, I asked my aforementioned husband what should I do?  Read or watch TV.  He said read, so I did.  In doing so I chewed up my afternoon, chased away my lethargic attitude, finished one book I had been chopping through when I had time and started then finished a second one.

…..  My husband says that the speed I read is unnatural.  I can’t see how, but hey, I have about an 85% comprehension while speed reading so can’t say I complain about it (but in taking one of the tests below, which to be honest, isn’t all that accurate due to one page reading and a small quiz, a real quiz takes longer to make the judge of how fast you read…just saying… I’m not as fast as a reader as most think…If it was accurate that is.).  I’m thinking/hoping (yeah, I’m doing it again) that returning to my first love will inspire my second love all because the love of my life suggested that I pick up my first love again…

Now, raise your hand if you understood that sentence.


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