Books
It’s funny over the weeks a few things were mentioned to
me in relation to books by a few people I know well who sort of all said the
same thing:
1-I read so much but rarely talk about the books I have
read
2-I wrote a book and never shared any part of it with
anyone (except the main author) before it was published which is very unusual
for someone writing a book (most books in acknowledgments talk about endless
nights where their countless families and friends supported them and read through
the final edits etc..) As people read my book they realize they have not seen
one word of it before and this surprises them
To address the first point- I LOVE books. As in love
them, I always have at least 8-12 ready to read and even if that is the case
before every holiday or vacation I go but at least 8-12 more. Books make my life better. Most of my friends
and family and colleagues also love reading but they go through maybe 1 -2
books a year …so unless I am asked I just forget to refer anything anymore! I
have two friends who read like I do and almost monthly, we place dozens of
books on each other’s doorsteps. But besides that-I don’t know…because I read
so much more I just forget to discuss books. And I think I like spending the
time reading more books than discussing them anyways.
I went to one book club meeting and I hated it. I hated
discussing the book (but I think that what bothered me more is that most the
woman looked like they had not washed or brushed their hair in about a year and
wore pants where their bum cracks were showing (PS they weren’t small little
bums but big big bums) PSS: no my book club meeting was not held in a prison.
Book club may not be for meJ
2-I found it very fulfilling but also very difficult to co-author
a book.. It was a hard process (that I am so so grateful for as learnt so much and
love the final product) It was already hard to share ideas and discuss and find
the time to make it all happen and agree etc between us both. Plus it was
ultimately his book and I the co-author-so I just decided to forge through and
not talk about it much.. That seemed to be the only way to do it or I would
never have gotten done (was two years by the end-that seems a lifetime for me)
Even now people ask
me all the time “you wrote a book???” “How come you don’t talk about this more?”For
some reason I am just a little more private about it…maybe it hurts a little that I haven't gotten as much feedback on the book yet that I was hoping for .. and so this makes me feel like I shouldn’t talk about
it as often…maybe it’s that I am not sure it is good enough. Maybe it is that
my Dad was a writer and I don’t want to be like him. Maybe I am just new at
this and don’t know how to feel..
I guess I just don’t think of being a writer of having a
book all that much. It doesn’t feel like a carer…but part of a journey. I am
super proud and love it when people comment on it, or read it etc….but for some
reason reading once again is something I do alone for now. Much like writing.
Even this blog is not open to comments…although I get many by email. I am just
not there yet.
One day I will be (probably related to my career and this
being part of it) but for now reading and writing are a part of my life that
are really my foundation but also part of a place deep inside me.
Mine.
Sometimes I get antsy and restless and even a little
bored in life (even with all the chaos surrounding me yes!) The only cure? A
good book.
A good book fixes anything and everything as far as I am
concerned. To date I have been into fiction, self-help, business books…I think
I will soon get onto some autobiographies.
I need books like oxygen. Just like I need to make lists
and write too.
And that is my story..of books
