Bloganuary Day 21

Ten more days left to go in the Bloganuary challenge! Will I make it? We shall see…

woman lying in bed reading next to a stack of books
Photo by @Planetnehemiah on nappy.co

Today’s question asks us who is our favorite author and why.

Well, that’s easy…

ME! Of course!

Obviously, I’m joking. I cringe too much at my own writing to ever consider myself my favorite author. Besides, I could never be that self-centered.

No, this is the time when I must admit that I actually don’t read as much as I used to. So I honestly couldn’t tell you who my favorite author is. I haven’t read enough to even give you a shortlist.

Now, little me was an avid reader. I received Advanced Reader stars regularly in elementary school. I was reading at an eighth-grade level by the time I was seven years old. I practically lived in the library, checking out three to five books per visit, and whenever it was time for the Scholastic Book Fair, my mom couldn’t leave that school without spending over $100.

I went through my vampire romance phase long before I ever heard of Twilight. Goosebumps and Animorphs were staples in my house, and I don’t remember the title of that one mummy novel I read, but I do remember that it absolutely terrified me. And this was post-Brendan Fraser’s The Mummy. Little me was still too scared to repeat those words Evie read from the Book of the Dead.

Me and mummies, man. We have a love—frighten relationship.

If you had asked teenaged me who my favorite author was, I would have probably told you Kate Brian, as I devoured her Private series in high school. Margaret Peterson Haddix’s Among the Hidden started as required reading for a class, but I was quickly hooked and continued the Shadow Children series until well after I’d graduated to the next grade. Scott Westerfield was another YA author whose books I couldn’t get enough of, and I’m still waiting patiently for that Uglies feature film I was promised. Funny how all the YA dystopian novels I didn’t read were adapted into films. At least I got a web series for Private.

These days, I don’t often make time to read. In this busy and constantly moving world, it becomes harder and harder to slow down, pick up a book, and read. My mind races a mile a minute as I try to think of everything I need/want to do every day…

What movies do I have to watch? What shows? I have to go shopping! I have nothing to wear! What’s in my refrigerator? I need to go to the grocery store. Have I eaten yet? (No.) My dinner was a whole roll of cookies, I need to work out. I have to find time to write today. Did I finish everything I was supposed to do at work? Am I getting sick or am I just hungry?

In all of this, reading gets put on the back burner. And yet, somehow, I still manage to find an hour to waste scrolling on social media.

The last book I read was Remember the Time: Protecting Michael Jackson in His Final Days. It was written by his bodyguards, and I read it sometime last year when I was going through an I-wish-Michael-Jackson-were-still-alive-and-that-we-treated-him-better phase. Firstly, you’ve got to take anything written about Michael Jackson with a grain of salt because so many lies were and still are published about him. But I found this account to be really authentic and honest. And it even made me cry a few times.

I finished the book in two days, and part of me was hoping that it would reawaken the reader in me. But no, all it did was satisfy my Michael Jackson obsession for a few months.

My reading still consists of a chapter from a Kindle book or Kindle Vella story every three days or so. And I feel so guilty because the first thing the “experts” say when you tell them that you want to be a writer is that you have to read. I think this advice has resulted in a mental block for me. I’m not reading, so anything I write is shit. I know that’s not true, and being a great reader doesn’t automatically make you a great writer. Still, those thoughts creep into my head every time I walk past my bookshelf and don’t pick up a book.

Honestly, I think too much screen time is the culprit behind why I can’t make myself read. I’m on the computer all day for my job. Then I get off work and turn on the TV. And then I go to bed and look at my phone until I fall asleep. My eyes are worn out.

In fact, for books that I’ve recently added to my reading list, I’ve decided to buy the physical copies rather than download them to my Kindle app because I think I really am exhausted from looking at too many screens.

Sure, they cost $10 more, but maybe a few paperbacks will do my eyes (and my eagerness to read) a little good. Keeping a journal has helped me to write more consistently after all. So there is hope!

logo: cartoon of girl with glass and her hair tied in a bun reading a book

—Nortina

What about you? Do you have a favorite author or book? Are you struggling to find a space and time to read just as I am?

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