As a Reader

Was at Costa (it's this little chain cafe in the UK) earlier and watching a little girl read her book by the window seat. Made me think of how I used to get so engrossed in a book that I'd feel like I was in another world.

It doesn't happen anymore though. I wonder if it's because I've gotten impatient, or if every story seems to be a repeat of another. I want to say it's because I haven't got time, but it seems too easy an excuse. I find myself making little side notes of the writer's technique, musing over the subtle clues and insights to life, and then skimming through the rest of the book after 'Preface'.

I wonder if it makes me any lesser as Writer when I don't do Reader right.

I'm very comfortable with my style of writing. It's a descriptive sort of prose, more of emotion than of places and sounds and sights, more metaphor than surface value. I like it, love it, enjoy writing and reading this particular style, but I'm beginning to find it very limiting. I'd like to try out simple, factual, teasing writing that doesn't hint at earth-shattering epiphanies. I'd like to try out simple sentences, without commas, each five words long. I need a new angle. Something really new. And fresh.

Hm. Looks like I've just found what I can do. 

In terms of my writing, I am currently in this search for precise words. Words that don't just give a glimpse of what I mean, but are what I mean. Phrases pieced together for both their beauty and political correctness. In short, I am becoming like all the other Literature-ists who become too critical of language, who cut the language apart and seem to overlook the very banal perspective that language can be, above all, merely a language.

See? I'm even finding trouble with that last sentence. Bah.