Jonesing for a Read

Man, I want a book so bad.

{shake}{shake}

I am surrounded by books, both in print and electronic. But I am denying myself. On purpose.

{shake}

You see, I am a book addict, nothing new there. But there are times, especially when all of life seems to be against you, that opening a book is a life-saver, you know?

I am not letting myself go there this time, and for very good reason. First, life is going well for me right now. A rare "yea." The kids are sorta off (I'm only doing half day school this week - middle ground for their not having a complete spring break like their friends) so they're willy nilly most of the time. I have the time this week to sit back and lose myself in a book. But I'm not.

You see, when I get into a book, I tend to let my writing fall to the side. It is not uncommon for me to intentionally hold off on a book I want to sink my teeth into and make it a reward for writing a certain amount or doing something writing-related. That's what I'm doing now, and it's working. Painfully so it seems at times. The painful part is that I cannot sit down and lose myself in writing a story whenever I want. Too many distractions of the animal and little male kind. It is so much easier to read a book and set it down when I have to break up a fight, put someone in a room or make a snack. Try getting into a writing a story, especially a turn-up-the-heat kind, and break it off right when the characters get their clothes off just to tell brother 1 that he shouldn't call brother 2 an idiot and that brother 3 needs to get out of brother 1's room and to leave the dog alone! Fifteen to thirty minutes later, once all are sufficiently occupied for a short time, turn around and try to pick right back up with the heat part. Yeah, right. Not gonna happen. Not if I want it to be good. So I save the writing when I'll be undisturbed (does this ever happen in a household where you are not single????) and that leaves most of the daytime hours with me . . .

biting my nails and shifting my eyes and eyeing the bookcases and my wallet and the online stores . . . you get the point. That's okay though, I remind myself. I'm pumping out my story as well as making a rather long list of all those books I'm going to devour once my next self-imposed deadline is met.