I finally got around to finishing Mindy Kaling’s book. I’d opened it and been distracted by other things at least 5 times throughout 2015 and it turns out that a hot summer beach day is just what I needed to knock it over. Front to back. An easy read full of laughs and humour, I’m sorry I didn’t read it sooner. I should have known, who doesn’t love Mindy, right?
But it taught me something.
Yup, this light, easy read taught me everything I needed to know about how I want to blog and express myself in 2016. And it has nothing to do with starting a new career in television and movies. I know, I’m shocked too, flair for drama and all that.
This book, filled with random thoughts, essays and ideas reminded me of my first love. Writing. it reminded me of the notebooks and the pens. The pencils and stationary. Man, I loved to write. I mentioned that last week when I committed to write more. Daily, in fact. But I’d forgotten and reading this book reminded me.
And it didn’t just remind me of that but it reminded me about the endless consumption of books and stories and content that once filled my time. All. My. Time. Just like Mindy, I know the similarities are uncanny. And I mean content content, not the super fun but like candy for the brain Buzzfeed type content. Real, actual books with ideas and everything.
But most of all, it reminded me to write.
To write about people, about things, about ideas and thoughts and not to care if there was for no other real purpose than to write them down. Seriously, there’s a list of possible movie ideas in this book that I could have written myself. I laughed out loud as I read them thinking, yup it turns out that Mindy Kaling is me in an Indian woman’s body. A wildly (and widely, thanks spell check) successful version of me, obviously.
So I left the sandy beaches I was laying on as I read the book and immediately pulled out my laptop. I wanted to write. I felt INSPIRED to write and I didn’t care what about. This isn’t even the first thing I wrote. I wrote about my relationship, about a dress I wore once that wasn’t me and bunch of other stuff.
Heck, I almost made a list of my own movie ideas should the need ever arise for me to share such ideas with someone who wanted to make a movie with me. Which, now I write that, is probably a grossly insulting thing to say. Like hard work be damned, they’ll just come to me because I’m awesome. But yeah. That happened.
It’s how everyone gets a random movie script offer, yeah? Thought so.
Let’s face it, I’m not even that funny.
Has that ever happened to you? The book thing, the inspired thing, not the movie thing? But actually, if the movie thing happened to you, you HAVE to tell us. Haha. Have you ever read a book, devoured it, and found that your spark for something you love is rekindled? I think that’s the power of words, of books and of stories.