Time to get moving again.

Whenever I stop reading, I stop writing. It’s odd how wound together the two actions are– you’d think reading would cancel out writing. After all, if I’m writing for my own enjoyment wouldn’t reading someone else’s stories fill that niche? What does it matter if the stories that are unfolding before me are mind or not?

Apparently my Muses are picky sorts. For ever story I read and enjoy, those little voices in the back of my head keep insisting they could do it better. (Whether they could or not is a hotly debated topic, but I’ve learned never to argue with them when they get riled up). So it looks like reading is definitely back on my plate as ‘something I should be doing more of’, I just have to start finding the time…

Tomorrow is always a new day.