I’ve recently finished a fair few books since last I wrote, and I’ve been meaning to write a review of The Bartimaeus Trilogy, but haven’t gotten around to it. Suffice to say, I’ve done quite a lot more reading this month than I’ve done in a very long time; I’ve probably read the same amount of books this past month and over 2006. That sounds quite sad, but it shall be rectified. (!!1!!one!!) I’ve put up a list of my 2007 reading forays, which you can find here at my journal. I didn’t put it here because I wasn’t sure where to put it.
I’ve recently been lurking at TheDarkTower.net, and I’ve been sadly confronted with the sad fact that OMG, there is so much more to DT than just the seven books. I’ve never read anything of King’s aside from the series, being a veritable scaredy-cat; The Gunslinger just really pulled me in when first I read it when I was in second year high. I’m still trying to debate whether or not it will be worth it to immerse myself in his other DT-verse books. I have a feeling that his books being interconnected in some way is almost almost almost like a certain romance author I know who has gazillions of books revolving around two interconnected clans.
Not that it’s bad per se, just… hard to do really well.
Sometimes (although it’s becoming more regular recently), I feel keenly the “loss” of my writing. Or, the loss of my confidence that I could write. When I was younger, I wrote no matter what, but now that I’m older I find myself hemming and hawing over how to write this, how to write that, what best thing to do in this scene, if what I’m writing is even worth a fillip, not to mention the duties and responsibilities that already take up my time. Are they flimsy alibis or valid reasons? I don’t know, I wouldn’t know. Before I even start, I’m daunted by everything that looms over me. I just sit in the crossroads, not knowing where to go, not knowing what to prioritize.
I think I might forever be doomed to this hemming and hawing. That’s quite sad.