Reading vs. knitting
Here's the thing: After knitting like a fiend all summer, I find myself behind on reading. Those of you who are writer-knitter-readers know whereof I speak. Writers need input in order to produce output. In my case, I feel like I must pour words into my brain to get words out. Garbage in-garbage out. Literature in-literature out. (If only it were so easy.)
Typically, after a spate of deadlines, I'm empty and spent, not tired exactly, but dry, deflated, bereft of ideas and inspiration. So I gobble up a few magazines and novels, maybe a juicy biography or two and pretty soon, something sparks and off we go again.
Knitting interferes with this. Not that knitting doesn't generate its own sparks, but those tend to be visceral, not intellectual. Though I'll concede the mathematical and structural knowledge that comes with knitting, it doesn't provide the heady rush of a brilliant novel or a stunning essay. A writer must read to feed the beast. Simple as that.
But how to find the time? Some knitters listen to books on tape as a way to keep up their reading. But to me that's like watching an erotic movie instead of, well you know, the real thing. It's a terrible quandry. With so many things on the list--Sitcom Chic, the Phildar jacket, the MIL kimono, the Sally Melville see-through top, Empire Falls, David Mamet's writing books, Reading Lolita in Tehran, The DaVinci Code and the weighty September Vogue--how do you balance it all?
With only two hands and two eyeballs, what's a girl to do?
8:54:56 AM 
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