On Writing: Does Reading = Better Writing?

Books (Canon EOS 5D mark iii; Canon 100mm; F/4.5; 1/100, Flash; ISO 125 (manual)

Will reading make me a better writer?  Or will the Imposter Syndrome kick in, and leave me stuck, blocked, unable to write. Just. One. Word.

Being that my nickname is ‘Bird-dog’ (given to me by my dad- many moons ago), If it can be found I will find it.  I went to the place that most of us go to find answers to our questions:  ‘GOOGLE.’

I always imagine a person not sure how large, sitting in a small little room with a computer laptop or maybe a desktop, answering all the questions that are typed into the Google Search bar.  Have you ever just stopped to think about that for a moment.  I mean really think about it.  How does Google have the answer to nearly everything that we ask or search for?  Think. About. It.




An Answer.


Nearly, Every.



After Reading….and reading.. .and reading some more and yes, a little research.  I came to this conclusion:

  1.  I will gain new knowledge
  2. I will learn my genre better … (but what if I don’t know what genre I want to know better??)
  3. I will gain better vocabulary.  and finally……….
  4.  Writers Must Read in order to be Better Writers.

In Stephen King’s words:  ‘If you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write”  

That said, I am challenging myself to take out my camera every day, and my writing tools,  The 30 day Challenge is on.  Anyone want to join me?  Just like taking out a violin to become a first chair, it takes practice everyday…. (even when you don’t feel like it)

Today’s writing practice: 06/19/17:


“At dusk we line up outside the church, along the concrete sidewalk.  Red scarves with a small golden sun in the center drape the necks of my mother’s friends as some hold their children close by their side while other children as young as 2, run in circles around their mamas.   The poplar trees sway in the light cool breeze.  This is where we come to get the blessing from the AI at the end of the day, the Dads still at work or elsewhere. 

The church with it’s concrete spires and stairs stands before us, looming, tall and cold.  One by one the children and their mothers enter without looking back.  The large wooden cathedral doors open and all that can be seen is a small flicker of light from the candles, and the darkness before the large doors are shut as quickly as they are opened. . .”

If you enjoyed this post, leave me a love note or two, I would love to hear from  you.

Until next time, …







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