Nora Ephron’s essay is usually quoted in inspirational pieces on reading, but it’s actually about time passing and the dreaded doom of gradually becoming dependent on something impersonal in order to accomplish something intimately personal. It was a useful way into writing today:
Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.
But my ability to pick something up and read it – which has gone unchecked all my life up until now – is now entirely dependent on the whereabouts of my reading glasses.
from I Feel Bad About My Neck, and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman (2006; 2008)