Honestly, I don’t remember when the last time was, I curled up with a good book. And got so involved in the story, I lost track of time. Not wanting to put the book down, even for a minute, to go to the bathroom.
Or talk on the phone. Or make a cup of tea. Or have a snack. Or eat dinner. Or go to sleep.
My life has been filled with books I loved so much, I’d have to read them, cover to cover, in a day. And all night, if necessary. There have been hundreds of all-nighters, during my lifetime.
Always, dreading the end, actually. Wanting them never to end. The books, not the nights.
Then there were all the books I could barely stand the thought of finishing. With those, I’d ration myself. Only allow myself to read a certain amount of pages each time, hoping to prolong arriving at the end for as long as possible. Have you ever heard of anything so silly?
But you know, I miss those days.
It’s not like I have nothing to read. I have stacks of books, just sitting there, waiting for me. Same on my iPad. And every time I read another intriguing book review on Claire’s blog, Word by Word, I add new books to the list I already have, of books I want to read, after I’ve finished all the others laying around my apartment. It is so unlike me, to ignore them. And yet, some of them have been there for months.
But I think I’ve figured it out. Writing a daily blog, coupled with working on client assignments, and trying to put in some time on my book, doesn’t leave much time for reading other authors’ books. Especially as I’m already reading other writers’ blogs.
No, I don’t want to stop. I love it all. But one of my favourite pastimes has taken a hit. It’s suffered. And, to be honest, so am I. Suffering, that is. I miss my books.
Because I love reading. I really love reading. So I have to figure out how to make time for it, again.
It won’t be easy, I know. First of all, I’m out of the habit. It’s like exercise. The minute you miss one class, you start to lose momentum. One is all it really takes. Then it gets progressively easier to miss more. Until you’ve stopped entirely. It’s the same with books, I’m afraid. So now I’m out of the groove.
The other problem is, reading takes concentration. And I’m distracted by the work I have. And also by the ‘idea’ I need before I can start to write my blog; and then the actual writing of it.
No sooner is one published, I have to start on the next. In some ways it’s like a vicious circle. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I love it. Just making an observation, is all.
It seems I need several more brains. And maybe two more hands. And some audio books.