by Olivia Cunning
Do you know why I became a writer? Easy. I love to read. If you don't love to read, I don't think you have any business writing.
Once upon a time, I could sit and read an entire book from cover-to-cover. Some days I'd even read two books in one day. *gasp!* These days, that seems like a modern-day fairy tale. An impossible dream. Unrealistic.
I just don't have time!
I currently have this book on my nightstand.
I got it in my head that I would reread the entire Harry Potter series this summer from beginning to end. Come to think of it, the last book I read cover-to-cover in one sitting was "HP and the Deathly Hallows". It's been years! So in preparation for my intended reading marathon, I replaced several of my hard copies. A few of my original books had "magically" disappeared when I loaned them out to family members. So once I had all seven books lined up on my shelf, I eagerly started reading.
I can't wait. I said.
This is going to be awesome. I said.
I wonder if the secrets revealed at the end of the series were hinted at in earlier books. I said.
It will be so cool to read the entire series as a unit. I said.
I'm currently on chapter two in the first book. Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, is a week from today. I don't think I'm going to reach my goal.
So a couple of months ago, I moved here
thinking one of the things I would enjoy doing most in my new locale is sitting near the waves and reading a good book without interruption. Dream on! I haven't even been to the beach in two weeks. Between the new job and everything that goes with writing and being a writer, I don't even have time to explore the island. And when I did steal five minutes to go to the beach after dinner one evening, I couldn't enjoy watching the waves, because a certain horrible entity kept weighing on my mind. THIS beast:
I despise that evil creature.
Despite the never-ending list of must-do tasks, I need to read. It's always been a necessary part of my life.
So confession time.
Do you know where I do most of my reading?
Now isn't that romantic? True, I'm mature enough to use the big-girl pottie and it's my Kindle that never leaves that room, but if I didn't read there, I wouldn't have the time to read anywhere. Ten stolen minutes of reading is better than none.
Maybe when I am finally able to quit my day job (see to-do list), I'll find the time to read again. But until then, I'll keep doing this
and pray I don't drop one ball, because I know if I do, the rest will soon follow.
How much do you read each week? And where do you do most of your reading? How do you find the time to do it? Inquiring minds...