A Reflective Thought

By the time I reach my keyboard after turning the last page in every book I always seem to get stuck with how to start. It seems to be a writers’ block before the writing has begun. I find writing poetry so easy, I pick up a pen, put it to paper and the words just seem to flow with the pen along the page and hey presto, a piece of art at my fingertips is complete. Yet with my blog, I’m writing to people and not to myself. I don’t know if people actually read this, when checking my viewers I seem to convince myself that the numbers are just me checking to see if any errors are in place, nevertheless it’s a weird thought that I am sitting here typing to an audience of sorts.

I have come to a conclusion, since we have moved on to yet another week and I still have 10 books to read to be on track; It seems I can’t press on. I have quickly come to realise that with all this free time it seems responsibilities have consequently gotten in the way of my reading i.e. I still have a job and chores that need doing around the house. I have taken to putting pressure on myself to read 52 books therefore reading is becoming a chore and that to me defeats the fun of losing yourself in a book...How is it a fun hobby when whilst reading my brain is constantly working thinking; ‘what is this book going to teach me so I can write about it in my blog?’ I have learnt that it isn’t about that, as much as I try to tell myself, books aren’t always about learning! They are about immersing yourself in a world that isn’t yours, losing yourself totally and completely in the words in the page, in the pages of the chapters and the chapters of the book so by the time you close that very last precious page, you feel completely different. Whether you’ve learnt something or not, it’s supposed to have changed you in a way. If it’s a book about courage and heroism, you feel compelled to be courageous and maybe act in heroic form to someone you love. If you’ve been reading a book about a love story then by the end you’re full of warmth and you want to share that love. The more I feel like I’m putting pressure on myself to whizz through the books and get a blog post up to say ‘I’ve read 52 books in a year’ in reality I haven’t read them properly. My eyes have flickered over the words on the page and the pages in the chapters and the chapters in the book… but I haven’t experienced them. I haven’t taken time to notice the themes or how I’m feeling, I don’t feel as attached to the book and fall in love with the books as I did at the beginning of the year. So here I am. This is me. Slowing down!

I am 9 weeks behind on my reading. That is ok! I will stick to a book a week, if I read more then hallelujah, that’s wonderful. I thought that i should let you know. I don’t want to compete with myself anymore, I would just like to fall in love with books and again and lose myself in the process. My boyfriend has let lucky because I haven’t forced him into the pit of doom that is my rant about the book I have experienced. I want to get back to it again. I want to get passionate and angry and frustrated at how the tale proceeded, I want to cry and laugh and feel a part of the lives that are held within the pages, I want to fall in love with the impact and imprint each wonderful story leaves on me.