I’ve been trying to finish 3 books in order to write something about them. As you can see by my title: I failed. I keep leaving the books in different parts of the house to give them a fair chance. Downstairs is the book about love and funny stories. When I’m upstairs I read random pages of How to be mindful, and every time I take the train I read about the girl from Google. All in equal positions staring at me and screaming: READ ME.
This time I’m not going to blame the World Cup, busy life, lack of concentration, mobile addiction, etc. This time I just have to admit it: some people love reading, but I love writing.
A lot of articles suggest you must read in order to write. I’m not going to argue that reading improves your writing, widens your vocabulary, gets you inspired, keeps your brain in shape, broadens your imagination, gives you knowledge, and even cultivates the theory of mind (the ability to understand that others have beliefs, desires, feelings, and perspectives that are different from ours).
Although, if the goal is to write, then write.
Don’t fall into the trap and become part of the group of people who stare at others’ work delaying their own. I’m sure there is a masterpiece waiting to be written and if I want to be the author I’m not going to make it happen just by reading. I need to spend time with my keyboard or notepad and write, cross, edit and keep writing. As a good friend of mine said: execution.