The Prompter Room

For Wednesday, November 4, 2015 — Part 2, to make up for yesterday:

” … I can’t promise that writing will make you happy, but if you’re the real thing you’ll never be bored.  That may be the greatest gift each of the Arts gives its practitioners …”


Perhaps I’m the real thing (though that’s arguable), then, for I am rarely bored.  Neither was I bored as a child.  If I wasn’t playing outside until dark, I would read.  Or I would write or draw something, but I considered those playing, too.  Sadly, drawing fell by the wayside — sadly for me-the-adult, perhaps happily for the art world — but I continued to read and write more and more.

When my niece and nephew were young and still in school, some friends came over to visit.  Their four kids, ranging in age from pre-teen to late teen, kept coming upstairs to complain to the adults that they were bored (this was before the advent of Smartphones and tablets), even with the TV.  We had tried to provide numerous options for our friends’ kids, and we suggested others once they were there. My niece and nephew valiantly tried to entertain their peers, but nothing satisfied them.  When they were ready to leave, the dad pulled me aside to say that our kids never acted bored and asked me how we ‘did that.’  My reply was simple: they read.  A lot.

How can one be bored when immersed in a book?  Maybe a particular book doesn’t suit us or what we’re looking for at the time, but another one will or yet another.  There are so many good choices, so many places to go (according to Dr. Seuss) and adventures to take, it’s impossible to be bored.

And, as Rita Mae Brown has said elsewhere, and others as well, if you don’t like the book you’re reading, write it yourself.  If nothing else, go to the nearest library and wander among the stacks.  Something is bound to leap out at you.


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