You
see, I’m finding it difficult to read and this never happens to me. I always have a book on the go and I take full
advantage of any spare minute to throw myself into the plot and get to know the
characters. If I didn’t read, I couldn’t
write.
Before I wrote my first novel, I’d done my homework. Sitting in a school car park for three years
meant I had the luxury of peace and I devoured a book a day. I got to know my genre, knew it like the back
of my hand and felt that I’d served my apprenticeship.
It’s important for me to keep up to date with publications,
changes in chicklit trends, what’s hot and what’s not. It’s something I take very seriously. This includes trawling Amazon for new books,
reading other writer’s reviews, downloading books, going to the library and
borrowing all the latest lovelies from aforementioned friend.
It’s a part of my job that I enjoy.
Usually.
So what’s my problem right now? Well, I seem to have the attention span of a
bulimic gnat. Not grabbed me in the very
first page? Forget it - I don’t want to
know. I know I’m not being fair to the
authors and that I’ll probably, at some point, go back and love what they’ve written but at the moment I’m like a spoiled
child. ‘Don’t like it! Don’t want it!’
I think part of the trouble is, once you start to write you
never read a book in the same way. Sometimes
I’m able to take my writer’s hat off and read for pure unadulterated pleasure
but other times I’m always thinking ‘writer thoughts’.
Oooh, I like how she
did that part.
Would I have used the
commas in those places?
What a fantastic twist
- how clever of her to keep me in the dark.
Good grief! How many times can she tell the same story?
I long for the day to return when I pick up a book and don’t
want to put it down - when I’m eagerly awaiting the next spare reading moment. But, at the moment, I’m even finding that new
books by my favourite authors just aren’t hitting the spot.
Is that them or is it me?
Right now I feel like I’m in reading-limbo, desperately
searching for the perfect book to get me back in my groove. Maybe it’s because I have a head full of my own
plot and characters who aren’t willing to share my brain with imposters - who
knows?
So, if any of you lovely readers can suggest a chicklit book
which you can guarantee will suck me in to its delights within the first page,
please save me.
Because me without my nose in a book, just isn’t right.
