I’m proud to announce that I read 577 pages in 24 hours.
American Wife was so good that I felt like it was glued to my face! I tried to take breaks, really, but every time my eyes wandered back.
Reading is a dangerous hobby, for sure. Once you get sucked in, there’s no escape. Immediately upon finishing, I threw the book down on the bed with a howl of victory, then leapt up and ran three blocks to the library to check out Curtis Sittenfeld’s other novel, Prep.
I’m a sick kid. Really.
But here’s the real question of the morning, something I struggle with as a devoted reader, English major, writer, author?
Do you consider yourself “wasting time” by (gasp!) reading for pleasure?
I certainly do not because books are my livelihood, however, does the thought ever creep into your mind that you maybe should be doing something more productive with your time?
I pondered this yesterday as I read and read and read…and read. I read for like six hours. I just couldn’t stop! At one point I called my mom and asked her the above question but, she having the same obsession with books as I do, answered quite simply “of course not—what kind of life is there without books?”.
I decided I would just consider my book habit “work” since as a writer, I must read as much as possible to continue to become inspired. There was a time when I considered graduate school for this exact purpose. How can you possibly be a good writer if you don’t read?
AND, NO, I DO NOT MEAN USING A KINDLE.