Every October I read the same roster of books and it gives me great pleasure. It gives me such great pleasure I can’t get into any other book I attempt to read.
It is one of the worst feelings starting and stopping a book because you’re either too busy, it didn’t hook you or you’re just too exhausted to read. I am suffering from all of the above.
Whenever I get into this snafu, it’s like the Bermuda Triangle. I sink into a vortex of apathy and it takes me forever to get out of it. I I am a book junkie: I’ve bought V.C. Andrews and Proust this week, but I also rented my first Atwood. Three weeks before I was into Stephen King, before stopping at page 79.
To make matters worse, I’m in the middle of reading submissions, so by the end of the day, all I want to do is sip something and watch Seinfeld, The X-Files or listen to Typesetter. But even listening to my favorite new gruff punk rock band, I am still lost because I yearn to read but I just can’t get started.
What do you do when this happens, readers? I’d love to hear how you cure your book hangover.
Filed under: Opinion