Picture two pools in the middle of a wood.
The first is fed by a mountain spring with a stream flowing from its center. Woodland animals drink from it’s banks and mighty trees and humble flowers alike are nourished from its waters.
The second sits in a hollow, a collection of rain-fall and run off. No other water flows in, and no other water flows out. Algae and scum sit on it’s surface, and mud smears and churns in it’s depths. There is no movement, no overflow, no life-giving force.
We writers are finite creatures. We can’t create something from nothing. We require material, ideas, and thoughts which we then fashion into a new mould. One of our primary duties as word-smiths is the transference of Memory, the preservation of those things so important to us as humans that without them our very lives are impoverished; but we can’t fulfill that function if we aren’t ourselves constantly steeped in those very same Memories.
Books are the physical products of other writers Memory transference. They are monuments to all that is Human. Emotion, Thought, Feeling, and sheer Human-ness is contained within their pages. As writers we can find constant and invigorating stimulation within them. They remind us so that we may remind others. Joy is not complete until it’s been shared.
And as we read, their message takes new shape in our own words. We agree, modify, or reject, but still the flow goes on. Their message streams into us so that we may have something to pass on.
And as we read, we become like one of the pools above: either constantly filled with ideas and feelings so that ‘our cup runneth over’ and others are nourished just as we are, or we can cut ourselves off and stagnate and impoverish the world around us.
So read a book…and feel the life streaming into your soul, so that then you can take that same life and shape, mould, and fashion it into your own words for the benefit of others!
It’s what we Effective Writer’s do.