This morning, I wake up to the sun streaming in through gauzy, green curtains. It’s early–nine thirty in the morning, crazy-early for a freelancer. But I’m rested and awake, and I have no meetings planned. I could sleep in, but the sunlight is appealing. I have a few songs to transcribe, and some writing to get done. I stand up and walk to the windows and decide to have a long, mellow day.
(But all of that can wait. At the windowsill, I see Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing waiting for me to pick up. I enjoyed it thoroughly when I read it in college. Bradbury’s death last week has made me want to re-read this book. Last week, meeting a stranger who was reading The Martian Chronicles furthered my resolve, and I went so far as to find Zen on my bookshelves. But… I hesitate: Wouldn’t I be better off reading about the poor, extinction-bound Martians? Or finally tackling Something Wicked This Way Comes? Colorful, but freelancer-Neil is reminding me that fiction is fun, but books about writing are work-related, and reading Zen is work I should be doing.)
read more »
