I would just like to say right away, I do not read books. I devour them, as a starving child ravenously inhales food. I’ve been known to read fairly thick books in matters of days, hours – books with a length that would take most people weeks or months or even years to read. A fantastic example of this would be my Grandfather: When Deathly Hallows came out I read it cover-to-cover in about 3 days, snarling at anyone who wanted to take me away from my precious book world. I then graciously loaned my copy to him, and he is still working on getting through it today.
I do not have concrete genre preferences, and am perfectly willing to read anything that sounds interesting or is recommended to me. That said, I admittedly tend to gravitate toward philosophical (the very heavy kind), fantasy, sic-fi, and true classics (think A.C.Doyle, Austen, Lovecraft, Tolstoy, etc.), though what fascinates me more than any story is a truly compelling character. I do not care how realistic or fictional the world around this character is, if I can relate, or if I deeply care, or if I’m even morbidly fascinated by this character I will read and let the real world fade around me.
Admittedly, I’m a purist when it comes to books. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love my iPad. I’ve read numerous books on it, and love being able to find new indie authors who are under the radar. However, there are some books that are just so powerful, or that touch me so deeply that I feel an overriding need to hold them physically in my hands, to touch the cover, to smell the pages, it just somehow seems more right. I’ve felt this compulsion with so many books, in fact, that the spare bedroom in my house has been converted to a comfortable library. I’m not going to lie, it’s my absolute favorite room in the house.
For some, and definitely for me, my love of reading has led me to writing.
Again, in this I am a purist. There is just something so satisfying about putting a pen (not just any pen, mind you, but a nice, heavy fountain pen) to paper and letting my thoughts travel the natural pathway from the head, down the arm, to the hand, and watching the ink blossom on the paper into something I’ve created. This is probably why, lamentably, most of what I’ve written as far as stories, poetry, and just random thoughts has disappeared throughout the years. I’m getting better at the whole “digital writing” thing (see:blogging) though, and have even managed to co-create a movie script and am currently working on co-creating another (also without physically putting pen to paper).
So after forcing you to read all of the above rambling, I’ll get to the point. This blog will be my digi-writing therapy and a collective of my thoughts and opinions about books, reviews of books, writing in general, and some other things that I’ll make excuses up to fit into that subject matter.