Confessions of a Book Addict
Looking at my Goodreads challenge (yes, I’m still behind) made me think I’ve read awfully few books this year, and it made me wonder why. I still consider books my favorite pastime, and the “to be read list” is ever so growing. But I don’t read as much as I used to.
Of course, there’s been a lot of writing and editing this year on top of my day job, and I could say video games, movies or arts & crafts take up my free time, but then why would I pick them over books if I love reading so much? The question made me thinking, and I finally realized I don’t read books because… I’m scared. (more…)
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December 1, 2015
Whenever I think about me as a writer, I can only recall good memories. Surely, there were some bad things along the way, the stings of rejection letters or the frustration of when the writer’s block hits, but they just don’t come to my mind as if they weren’t that significant. And when I focus on the bright side of being a writer, several memories constantly come up to my head, and I’d like to share them with you. 
Back in May, Myk Pilgrim tagged me in a Facebook chain post, challenging me to post 7 lines from the 7th line at page 7 of my WIP. I promptly did so, and after tagging a bunch of my writing friends, I enjoyed having a sneak peak into what they were working on (and I do hope I get to read their finished pieces!). Then I forgot about the challenge, though I still saw the post and tags circulating along my Facebook acquaintances. I didn’t know the challenge moved to blogs (or maybe this was where it originated?) and last week Sara Letourneau 
This post has been prompted by a 
There are things that always feel great. The taste of the first strawberries when the summer starts. Opening a new book by one’s favorite author. The touch of a pillow on the face after a long and tiresome day. No matter how many times experienced, they always feel the same.
By the time I catch up with both life and sleep, you will probably have read something about 
Oh look! Another month went by. Compared to the bumpy February, March had proven more understanding, allowing me to add the words at a steady pace, and to appreciate the effects of the long-term commitment. It reminded me of hiking in the mountains where the peaks always seemed to be as distant as in the beginning of the journey, but once you’ve looked back, you saw the whole stretch of valleys and narrow paths you’ve scaled already. And writing felt similar: a thousand word on its own doesn’t seem that much, but when you look at a month, then two and three months of such thousands, they grow into stories, blog posts and novels.