As I've written -- on blog, FaceBook or somewhere -- I've been a reader all my life, but frequently I had next to nothing to read. Before starting college I was proud owner of maybe 50 paperback books, which filled a whole shelf of my made-in-shop-class bookcase.
When I started at Oklahoma State University, however, I was exposed to the McFarlin Library, two million volumes plus thousands of journals, maps, newspaper archives and the like.
They say you can't miss what you never had -- but seeing the OSU library after being used to a shelf of paperbacks -- suddenly my brain felt like an empty warehouse, with my meager collection sitting off in a cobwebby corner. I had worlds to learn about! I think I would have had a good education had I simply spent those four years in McFarlin.
Fast Forward to the past few years of (mostly) unemployment. I was too worried, too nervous to read much. Heck, I'd start a novel -- fade out halfway through -- and put it back on the shelf. How could I waste time reading when I should be looking for a job?
This week, however, I realized: there's that feeling again. My brain is an empty warehouse. Mix in with that an added metaphorical sensation of utter starvation, and all I could say was:
"Gaaah! I can't take it any more!"
I'm reading, ya hear me? I'm reading Castles by Sidney Toy, the best survey of castles, fortifications, battlements, keeps and siege warfare ever! I'm reading Lands Beyond by SF great L. Sprague de Camp and science writer Willy Ley, an early history of places that never were, a great resource for fantasy writers. I'm reading Churchill by Roy Jenkins -- I have 50 or 60 books on World War II, and I have to start somewhere. I'm reading Popular Science and Scientific American for -- science!
Yes, I'll work on stories, novels and resumes; I'll wash the dishes and clothes; I'll vacuum and scrub the toilet. But from now on I'm hijacking chunks of time to fill the empty warehouse.
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