Sometimes I stop working at the computer and go outside. The door is just six feet from my chair. If I turn left, I go along the side of the house to the front yard through the archway in this photo. I might check to see if the mail has come, or I might pull a few weeds. I would definitely stop to admire the wisteria that looks for a few weeks in spring like that famous Tiffany stained glass window. If I turn right, I would go into the backyard. I might do a little maintenance gardening, or I might just sit on a bench and read for awhile, enjoying the sun on my face and the words on the page.
Three writer friends and I have an ongoing email correspondence. The content is wide-ranging, from grandkids to recipes, gardening, movies, and of course, reading and writing. We keep each other updated on writing projects, and we share book recommendations. I was surprised to learn recently that all of the other three make it a practice to avoid reading during the daytime and feel guilty when they do.
What's up with that anyway?
Even when I was a practicing librarian with a regular 9 to 5 Monday through Friday job, I sometimes read during my work hours and only felt a tiny bit guilty. I never intended to just sit and read a novel in my office; I was more likely to just go through a pile of new acquisitions or review copies to see get familiar with them. I still remember the day, however, when I picked up Bridge to Terabithia from the new book shelf. I started to read the first page and looked up an hour later, tears streaming down my face, to find a huddle of children outside my open office door, all staring in wonder at the weeping librarian.
As a professor responsible for teaching and researching children's literature, I have always felt that reading children's books and critical works about them was part of my job. Lucky me.
As a writer too, I feel that reading is part of my job. Reading the best of what other people write stimulates me to write better. I blogged recently about how a poem in Margarita Engle's magnificent Surrender Tree gave me the insight I needed to finish my book about children and libraries.
Of course, I not only read at any odd moment during the day or evening. I also work at all hours. This was the biggest change for me when I left the public library and started my job as a professor. There were no longer regular work hours or even time sheets! UCLA didn't seem to care when or where I did my work as long as I showed up for scheduled office hours, classes, and faculty meetings. Occasionally I would try to keep track of the hours I spent on those activities plus course preparation, research, writing, and the other criterion for promotion: the poorly defined "service" component. It was always considerably more than 40 hours a week, but the bliss was that I could put in the hours whenever it suited me. This left occasional mornings free for grocery shopping or the gym and afternoons for movies. I could spend time with the grandchildren when they got out of school. I did all of my writing for publication in my home office, at any hour of the day or night, with the freedom to take a break and work in my garden or stir the stew that was simmering on my stove.
Maybe this is why I read any time and any place I can. Yes, books nourish my mind and my soul and distract me from the cares of the world. I need to read as much as I need to work and eat and drink and love. I don't compartmentalize any of those activities. On good days, they all merge into an organic whole. So yes, I read in the daytime; and I write at night and on weekends. These are the rewards of a literary life.
