Book hangovers are real. After finishing a book, all I want to do is sleep.
The book I’m reading affects my mood. If the protagonist is stressed, I’m stressed. If she’s grumpy, so am I. To be honest, I’m either stressed, grumpy, or both.
I treat books better than babies. Don’t hate me. I used to bite my cousin when we were children. I have never bitten books.
I love looking at my bookshelf. It brings me so much joy. It’s better than looking at a boyfriend…not that I would know.
My eyes are always sore. That’s why I don’t have an e-reader.
My wallet hates me. That’s another reason why I don’t have an e-reader.
I can’t find a comfortable reading position. I blame my horrible eyesight and my need to wear glasses.
I make references to books, but no one understands them. People stare at me like I have three eyes. I wish I did.
I die a little inside when someone tells me s/he disliked a novel I loved. I’m sorry. We can’t be friends.
I re-organize my books often. It takes an hour each time. Send help.
When reading, I might as well be dead to the world. I refuse to check my phone.
I despise interruptions with every fibre of my being. I wish I could cut the phone lines in my house.
I don’t read fast enough. Too many books, too little time. Sigh.
If you’re a reader, you know the struggle is real.
Some of my struggles include:
- Going to the library and asking the librarian to find the books you want to borrow.
- Looking for a book in stores and not being able to find it.
- Struggling to find a comfortable reading position.
- Trying to find the right edition of a book on Goodreads.
If at first you don’t find what you’re looking for, fail, fail again.
For some reason or many reasons, I have been struggling with Camp NaNoWriMo this year. Shocking, huh? As much as I hate to say it, the stress is starting to get to me.
I know it’s only been three days, but I’m already behind on my word count. Like way behind. Like last in a race. Near the starting point. Barely moved at all. That’s how behind I am.
Stress makes me melodramatic. More melodramatic than I usually am anyway.
In other news, have a Good Friday. Enjoy your Easter weekend no matter what you’re doing or not doing.
Promise me you’ll keep writing.
And blogging. I swear I enjoy reading your posts.
Today, I wanted to cry during English class because I had forgotten to bring my notebook to school. The irony, eh?
See, the struggles of a writer are real.
Never again. I can’t believe this even happened in the first place.
When you say/write something grammatically sound but others are confused, and they incorrectly correct you.