I once told a friend that if I were ever given three wishes by a magical being, I would wish to be able to read faster.
A simple request for which I envisioned no unforeseen, earth-shattering consequences, and that I believed would genuinely make my life better.
Last November (2021), I decided to grant my own wish by signing up for a speed-reading course.
For the past three months, I’ve been working on an R&R for an agent.
In part this has been to improve my novel’s wordcount.
Is art—in particular, writing—meant to be representative or aspirational?
On Twitter, where I admittedly spend more time than is probably recommended, the issue of representative vs. aspirational writing comes up often, if not necessarily using these exact terms.
I recently learned that some readers start a new book by first reading the end.
To clarify, I’d always heard that some people do this.
However, it wasn’t until I read the comments on a recent Twitter post about content/trigger warnings vs. spoilers in books and whether they represent the same thing that I came to realize just how many people do this, and also some of the reasons why.
Can a lifelong slow reader nonetheless become a well-read one?
For 2021, I’ve once again signed up for the Goodreads reading challenge.
Last week, I wrote about how I don’t often give books five-star ratings.
Even less often do I give one-star.
I’ve mentioned before how I review every book that I read.
It surely goes without saying that I love writing five-star reviews best of all.
The hardest part about reading is knowing when to stop.
This is obviously true when a gripping story threatens to keep you up well past your bedtime. And all the more so in the midst of a book that is decidedly opposite to that.
Twelve books a year doesn’t trouble me anymore, but it did at the time. I found myself floundering beneath the burden of various competing obligations, some mandatory, some discretionary, and that reading, my oldest pastime, had fallen far by the wayside.