I’m an avid book reader. My bookcase has one designated shelf stacked with “to-be-read” books. I usually am reading one or two books at a time, not to mention the Sunday L.A. Times (which takes me at least a few days to get through) and a magazine.
However, as much as I enjoy reading, as much as I look to books for information, new perspectives, inspiration, and/or an escape, there’s always a little bit of a lull between when I finish one book and begin another one.
Hopefully, the book I have just completed was a satisfying read. It was (depending on the subject matter): delicious, thought-provoking, amusing, stimulating, entertaining, moving.
I’m basking in the after-glow and am hesitant to give myself over to a new title. I’m still reveling in the tale from my just completed-book and wonder if this new title will be just as good. Will the pages fly by? Will minutes pass as I realize I’ve stayed up thirty minutes later than I had planned to, all because I just had to see what would happen next?
But, thoughts of hesitation and doubtfulness can only last a few days, because then there’s a nagging feeling that something is missing. The something missing is a new book. It’s what I will bring with me when I arrive at my son’s school five minutes before dismissal. It’s what I will read as I wait for water to boil for spaghetti. It’s what I will read before gravity takes over and makes my eyelids too heavy to keep open.
So then it’s just a matter of going “shopping” on my bookcase and selecting the next book I’ll read and add to my Goodreads log (www.goodreads.com), taking a breath, and diving in.