Funny how habits change.

Once upon a time, I was a fervent reader. I'm not sure what happened.

I have not, of course, stopped reading. I've just stopped reading anything new; Chad is bemused, as were a string of roommates before him, at my current reading habits: I reread. A lot.

I turned my attention toward my reading habits this week because I'm still reading Steven King's book On Writing, in which he encourages would-be writers to spend lots of time reading, going so far as to dismiss TV as something writers should avoid. (I presume he would not give the same advice to would-be scriptwriters.)

So I wondered what happened to my reading, and finally realised that I got out of the habit of reading-- and in particular, coming home from the library with a stack of books once a week-- when I was an aim student. There were too many other things for me to do, and in Scotland I didn't even have a library card. Then when I was an aim assistant, going to the library wasn't convenient.

These days, my world has a lot of other interesting things in it (Blogger, Facebook) and I have been distracted from what was once my greatest hobby. Plus, I always feel like I'm neglecting my husband when I spend lots of time reading. Which is funny, because I read anyway, but instead of finding new things to read, I keep going back to the same old friends that I've owned for years.

But, Mr. King is correct; good writers must be readers. There is no way around it. So, I think it's time to pick up an old habit again.

Another gem I've run across in this book: Apparently, it's totally normal to imitate the style of others while finding one's own style. Thank goodness; all this time I thought I was just a bad writer. (I may still be. But not because of that.)