I’m terrible when it comes to reading (cue echoing god-voice): books on craft. I used to ride horses that shied when the wind picked up, theirs withers trembling, nostrils flaring noisily. Hold Donald Maass’ book up before me and I’ve got the same reaction, stupidly side-stepping into appliances and laundry baskets. I suppose I’m afraid I’ll squash organic creativity by reading (cue the voice): craft tips. But here’s the thing: I’m tired. I’ve had broken sleep for the past 5 years. I pretend to be an early riser for the sake of the doodly-woodly-delicious-wicious early rising little boy I would do anything for–but inside, I’m dreaming of flannel-covered down. Tiredness takes a toll on the writing mother. I want to be more effective during the revision process and (with the other 2 novels I’m working on) creative process and so I’m going to do my best to read Mr. Maass’ niftily laid out book without whinnying to the skies—I mean, sighing to the stars. And then I’m moving on to Bell and what’s-her-name, dang it, you know—the brilliant one—Autobiography Of Red, HER ALMIGHTY, yes, Anne Carson. Sigh. See? I need help. And so I’m going to find it. And learn and persist. Because, tired as I am, I’m the one in control (see previous post). Iamincontrol. And now, instead of blogging about reading, I’m going to read during naptime. Or—sleep for 30 minutes and then read. How about 10 minutes of sleep and 85 minutes of reading. Huh. Did you know it’s 2012? Ah. I didn’t think so. That’s why you’re here.