It feels good to be reading again. I haven't been bringing my computer to work with me, because it's heavy in my bag and I haven't been writing on the train anyway. I've been devoting my train time to reading.
As I said earlier, I'm reading The Magicians by Lev Grossman. People have been ranting and raving over this book in equal parts, but so far I am really enjoying it. It's laid back and easy, but still interesting. I can see why a lot of people hated it, though; I'm past halfway and the plot still has yet to pick up. I know what happens already (unfortunately) but honestly I think I would have guessed it anyway. But it's just... enjoyable. It's Harry Potter on steroids - the college version with alcohol and sex. It's the familiar formula of going to school and learning the craft, and I'm sure Mr. Lev is annoyed at being compared to Harry Potter but frankly that's what he wrote. And I'm fine with that.
If I was reading this at another point in my life I may not have enjoyed it very much, for all the reasons the haters are hating. But right now I am trying to focus on my writing, and my reading has been booted because of that. This book is enjoyable and I can relax while I read and really fall into the story. That's the reason I read, and the reason I started writing. But it hasn't been happening because I've been stressing myself over the writing.
The worst part is, I need that stress if I want to get any writing done. I work full time, sit on a train for almost three hours every day, plus have all the normal "Do the laundry, clean the room" tasks that everyone else has. If I don't stress myself out about not getting any writing done, it will also get swallowed by Real Life. Right now it's all about finding the balance between everything.
I would love to be able to sit down and bang out four thousand words in a day. But I can't do that yet. So until I can, I have to make do with the alternative, getting as many small chunks in as I can.