For years, I read two to three books a week and sometimes four or five. I would devour an array of lighter Regencies before turning to the more primitive Medievals. When I ran out of knights to swoon over, I would plunge myself into a world of vampires and shape shifters. On and on it went—until I started to imagine different endings to the stories I was reading. Before I knew what hit me, a new passion had slipped into my life. Writing. Let me start by saying that I love everything about the writing process. Well, I didn’t love the am-I-good-enough-to-sell-a-story phase, but I adore the rest. I enjoy the challenge writing presents and the creative outlet it provides. Writing is exhilarating, frustrating, tiring, and amazingly satisfying. But somewhere along the way, the writing process killed my enthusiasm for reading. Yeah, I know. I was as shocked as you when I recognized this. Two years slipped by, then three, then four before I realized how little I was reading. Between work, f...
READ. REVIEW. REPEAT.