Sadly, as a writer, I’ve been keeping the deep secret that I don’t read much anymore. The time, you know. As soon as I finish writing one book, I’m anxious to start another one.
So as I sit here—now a non-reader—and I look around my room.
I see the 900 page reference book I purchased a few months ago. One of the new romance novels I bought. Plus, on my nightstand, there’s an out-of- print book on writing that I was lucky to find online. And I just finished Dean Koontz’s book, Trixie, A Big Little Life, a non-fiction audio book...but I stopped reading at Chapter 20, right before the end because it’s mainly a biography about a dog, and we know what happens at the end if the book was written after the main character’s death. So, it ended happily for me as Trixie will live on.
As for e-books, I downloaded The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and am planning to read it at night. Some of the other books on my e-reader have been read recently. I started one a second time.
It dawned on me that a writer who says they don’t read much may be comparing themselves to the person they used to be who would leave the library with a big bundle of books every two weeks. Or every week.
It’s kinda like thinking you didn’t have that many calories on a day until you walk by the trash and see the candy wrappers. By the evidence around me, I read a lot more than I realized.