When I was younger, virtually every minute of my free time (if I wasn’t sleeping, eating, showering, doing chores, or doing homework) was spent reading.
It was my absolute most favorite thing to do and I spent hours at a time doing it. My favorite books to read were from The Baby Sitters Club series by Ann M. Martin.
Within three years of reading the series, it felt like the characters were my actual friends and reading about them was like getting to be part of their world. It was the best thing ever.
Reading remained my favorite past time for years afterwards: through junior high, high school, college, after college, and during grad school.
Lately, I’ve barely been able to pay attention to a 200+ page book long enough to identify the supporting characters let alone finish it in two weeks like I used to.
After all those years and all those books, reading has dropped low on the priority list for me. And I’ve been worried about it sick.
Did I lose my sense of imagination? Does it mean I no longer want to be a writer? What was once so clear has felt murky and uncertain.
No. Earlier this week, I realized that I’ve just become very selective about what I want to read.
I’ve been most compelled by Non-fiction lately, whether it’s in the form of a book, essay, or article. And it can’t just be about anything–it has to have spark, a strong voice that speaks to me about the topic and keeps me engaged.
Such is the case with this amazing book I discovered at a bookstore the other day by Mark Manson. I can’t put it down and has really shown me the affect that really good writing can have on readers.
What a relief! Turns out my taste in books/reading material has changed. My love for reading is not dead, it’s just not as easy to ignite as it once was, which is okay. Like everything in life, just because something changes doesn’t mean it’s over and gone.
All I have to do is find things to read that fuel the spark and keep me engaged. I’ve got a whole new year ahead of me to do that and I’m looking forward to it!