PhotobucketSo today, I accomplished…exactly nothing. I told myself that it was because I was only wearing one contact lens – my left eye was killing me and I haven’t gotten new glasses since 1995 – and typing on the computer was too jarring. Yesterday, I accomplished…exactly nothing as well. I told myself it’s because I had an impossibly busy day, packed to the gills with errands and what not.

The truth? After a few days of telling myself all of these terribly untrue things, the truth is that I’ve lost a bit of my gusto for my manuscript. Not the enjoyment I get from it when I actually sit down and write it, but just my mojo in general. I come up with 1000000 distractions that tear me away from the ms, and so, today, even with my literal cloudy vision, I’ve decided I better take action before this two (okay, five) day streak turns into something more serious.

What I’ve opted to do is rethink my strategy when it comes to reading. Let me explain: normally, when I’m working on my first draft, I refuse to read other books. My brain is easily permeable, and I find that I quickly start thinking (and perhaps writing) in the voice of the author I’m reading, rather than the voice that should be inside my head. (When I was a teen, I voraciously read Stephen King, which meant that I swear, half the time I walked around thinking in the voice of a serial killer.) So, because I know how malleable my tone can be, I swear off other works until I’m done with my own, thus lessening the risk of page 50-56 sounding like Meg Wolitzer while pages 97-100 echo Tom Perrotta.

But last night, I remembered something. I remember picking up one of my favorite books, Good Grief by Lolly Winston, and tearing through it. And I remembered how it inspired me to sit down and write what eventually became my debut novel. I remembered marveling at how much I fell in love with her characters and her prose and the way she sucked me in and didn’t spit me out until page 300. And how I then rushed to my computer to write 300 pages of my own.

So I’m breaking my vow: I’ve decided to reread Good Grief and see if it lights another spark. At the very least, I know I’ll be entertained, and at the very best, I might get writing again. I’m curious, though, to hear from you guys: do you find that, while writing, it is difficult to read other authors? Or do they actually help inspire you? If so, what books have served as your muses? Maybe they’ll be next on my list….

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Allison Winn Scotch
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