When I taught creative writing classes, I would tell my students—often—that you can’t be a good writer without reading. I would say, “You have to read to write.”

I still hold to that, but as a writer who loves reading, it sometimes creates a tug of war with my time. In fact, if you were to chart it, I probably spend three to five hours reading for every one hour writing. Maybe, with those odds, I should call myself a professional reader instead of a professional writer!

I generally can’t fall asleep at night without reading. Depending on the degree of that sleeplessness, that can mean reading anywhere from five minutes to two hours. I also start my day with reading, but in that case it’s the Bible and my devotional books. So beyond bookending my day with books (pun intended), it is also the way we unwind in the family. There are days that the TV never gets turned on. However, days without reading do not exist.

One of the cool things about tutoring is reading all the curriculum that they use. For instance, I learned this week that hummingbirds can’t survive more than a few minutes without eating, you can see farther and clearer in outer space because gravity doesn’t distort the eyeballs, and that Pocahontas was the nickname, meaning playful, for the Native American girl named Matoaka.

You learn the most fascinating things by reading.

Granted, most of the time when I am reading, I am reading to escape, to be entertained. But even then stray facts can slip through that make me go, ‘huh, imagine that.’

Beyond those sources, I enjoy researching so I will invest a lot of my reading time into writing prep. How did a particular dinosaur move, for instance, or how small did it start when it hatched from an egg? Those facts weave credibility into my fantasy series. There are some unfinished books where I have enough research material to make a book of its own. What was civilization like, for instance, in medieval Florence? Or how might you create/distill water in an enclosed society? (Two different books if not obvious from the topics.)

But to be a writer, I have to make an effort to write. Currently, I’m trying to maintain the 1-5 ratio as an absolute minimum. There are times that the activities do overlap, though. Most mornings when doing my devotional reading, I will write a poem in the margin of my Bible. A lot of time when I am working on a story, I will write a few lines, then go and read something for a couple of pages and then bounce back to writing.

In the best of worlds, they complement each other. But, for me, it is so much easier to read than it is to write. So much easier that sometimes I will let myself go down the rabbit trail of reading for hour upon hour and never turn the corner into productivity.

But I learned a long time ago, that if I don’t write at all, I am miserable. Reading and never writing is like the Dead Sea. The life of the Jordan River flows into it, but it has no where to go, no outlet. It stagnates and becomes uninhabitable. However, when I read and write, I am more like the Sea of Galilee. Life abounds within me and I have a way to share it with others.

If you see me getting grumpy, therefore, remind me to pick up my pen and write!

I don’t know whether it’s the rain, not enough sleep, or the start of a new school year under less than optimal conditions. Whatever it is, or whatever combination sparked it, I have been feeling melancholy lately. I find myself missing any number of times, people and creatures.

First off, just because she’s the most recent, I miss my cat. We do have a nearly daily visitor in the neighborhood cat, Mio, which I do appreciate. Without his ministrations the lack of feline presence would be even sharper. But oddly enough, I miss caring for Checkers. I miss checking on her towel, doing her laundry and emptying her box. It was part of my morning routine to walk into the office and see how she was doing and what she needed. Somehow, I feel like I should still be doing that.

Second, I miss my mom. It’s been almost two years. I would never have thought that I would miss her as much as I do. I love her, yes, but we always bickered and debated each other. Yes, it had become more amicable after I had kids, but it never went away. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and found it easier to talk to him and get along with him. But there are some things that I only talked with mom about, some conversations and references that only she understood. For instance, we could talk books for hours. And she put up with me getting snarky about people who got on my nerves.

Since it is the beginning of a school year, I miss being a homeschooling mom. My guys had the nerve to grow up faster than I wanted them to. I love them both and am proud of what they’re doing and who they’re becoming, but they’re adults now. Fortunately, I remember telling them during my favorite moments to never grow up, so I think they knew how much I appreciated those times. I would love to bottle the instances when Erik was snuggled into my side, Karl was on my lap and I was reading to them. Those hours were precious.

I miss normal activity with my friends and neighbors. I am an introvert, so I don’t go out of my way to talk to people, even when I should. But there are a lot of people that I used to say ‘hi’ to and then hug on a fairly regular basis. I’ve written to many of them, but it’s not the same. Nor can those hugs be made up by someone else. It just doesn’t equate.

I miss dates with my hubby. This morning we both woke up too early. We talked about how, in another time, that would have meant breakfast at Bob Evans. And while I know that it (as well as many other restaurants) are available for dine-in, we are not that trusting. Eating on a patio we would consider, but haven’t even managed to do that yet.

So yes, I’m feeling a bit melancholy. But that doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring the blessings. I like that Gary, Karl and I are all working/studying from home and see more of each other. I like that Erik chose a wife who I absolutely adore. I like that the view out my window is green instead of the usual brown of early September. I like that I know that God loves me. I like the story ideas that flit through my brain and the students (most of them) that I work with. I am blessed.

But still, on dreary days, let me cry a little. Because as good and wonderful as things are, there will always be the things, times and people that are missed.

Before I started writing this, I soaked in the bathtub for three hours. Yep. You read that right. I woke up this morning, at 2 with a horrid headache and frankly needed the time out. Fortunately, I had prearranged for this to be a day off of tutoring, but I had been hoping to get significant writing done on my works-in-progress.

Nah. Didn’t happen.

But I needed time away from my computer screen anyway.

Since this whole thing started, I have spent a lot of time on Zoom. Some days I have been face to face with students for almost nine hours. I think the kids are great and I like helping them, so that isn’t what this post is about. It is about how virtual communication exhausts me. So many times, I have felt guilty for not showing up to a meeting that I would have gone to in person, but via Zoom? I just don’t have the energy especially not after having tutored a good part of the day.

Don’t get me wrong. I am thankful for the technology. Zoom (and even Skype) is a blessing to help us continue on while coping with the new world. But for an introvert, it’s difficult. It is the worst of social interactions and none of the best.

What do I mean by that?

Well, the kids I work with are so close that they can see every wrinkle and flaw that I have. But yet, they’re so far away that I can’t hand them a pencil or poke them to get them working again if they zone out. I am on camera, literally, and on high performance alert all the time. That’s hard for an introvert who needs time with my thoughts in order to process feedback. But the computer separation takes away the reason I go to any social events—person to person comradery.

If I didn’t think the kids and teens I see on my screen were great, I wouldn’t be able to do it. As it is, at the end of some days I am so drained that I can’t talk to the people around me. They love me anyway and know that I have a limited supply of spoken words so it’s okay.

I read that we have yet to discover what the emotional and psychological effects of social distancing will be. Extroverts who crave social interaction will find the distanced gatherings less than satisfying. And introverts will find them even more draining.

Is there a solution? Not yet. I think that all people should cling tightly to those in their own households and reach out by phone, letter, text or email as often as possible to friends and extended family. And if you have introverts in your circle, don’t be surprised if they’re less than eager to attend a Zoom meeting. Still, extend the invitation. They might surprise you one day!