You know when you read something completely immersive and wonderful and you almost don’t want to finish but you find yourself racing to the end because you want to know how it will be resolved and all the loose ends are accounted for in a narratively satisfying manner? The sort of book that makes you do a little cry or maybe a manful sigh at the end and then you go on Goodreads and give it five stars and look at the reviews by people that didn’t like it and put them on your enemy list.
And you know how later, when you return to your own work in progress – which is a completely different project and isn’t supposed to resemble the thing you just read in any way – you see just how far you still have to go with it and the whole thing makes you feel very tired even though it’s Saturday and you’ve had ten hours sleep and two coffees.
And you know how then you sit and eat pringles and listen to Red Sparowes and Explosions in the Sky as your living room gets darker and darker (it’s probably going to rain soon, like nature knows you need a bit of pathetic fallacy in your life) and think ‘there’s no point blogging about it, I need to crack on,’ but you’re not sure how to start somehow so you blog about it anyway?
That’s been my afternoon.
12 Books in 12 Months 