I don't have the time to read anymore and I hate it
I can say I dislike Bookstagram as much as I want (and I do), but it doesn't change the fact that I feel isolated from the book community I used to feel a part of because I rarely read anymore. Why? Because I don't have the space to enjoy it because I joined the workforce and I don't have enough freetime to feel like reading is the right endeavour. Not when so many things comes before it just to make the days (and eventually this life) run “smoothly.” By that time my brain is fried. It spent 8 hours on the screen, of course it doesn't want to read more that day. Of course my body feel jitterish from inactivity while my brain lacks motivation. Of course, more inactivity by reading or even writing is not a choice my body enjoys. It's the opposite it craves.
I like reading. Every vacation shows me this as I sit down with a book and hours with nowhere to be or do.
I hate pressure. Expectations. FOMO.
I just want to enjoy the reading experience again. Without that reading fiction is close to worthless for me.
I DNF'ED and 2-3 stared every book I read last year. Each and every one was a bitterness inducing uphill battle. I tried new titles, blacklist titles, different genres and demographics. Audio, comics. Nothing really stuck unless I read it during a vacation.
Is the new normal 4 books a year? ( easter 1, summer 2, Yule 1)
What an extremely slow phasing, I barely can't think of how exhausted it makes me feel due to my weighty tbr list.
Then, I also lost my spirit for photography. I did nature and books and now I live in an apartment that makes me feel trapped, where the closest walk into nature is 30minutes surrounded by houses. (I am lowkey losing it.) and now I'm at our cabin and I enjoy taking photos again. I can spend hours just walking around outdoors for a good spot and nice lighting and weather. And I dream about the photos I want to try to take!
The space books have taken up in my life isn't realistic anymore and it sucks. It especially sucks because every platform and group I am in is based on books. If I am not reading, I am chatting about books or browsing. Or scrolling book content (yuck to "content"). LIKE WHO AM I WITHOUT BOOKS? and without the sports I used to do before I started to read a lot? Who allowed this human bean to change when she doesn't want to.
(...) to turn my head, to look back at my captors and give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Or relieved, I thought. Relived I knew a truth they did not. A world where the gods spoke and their words rang true inside my bones.
I chanted a line from the old texts I'd read while I still worked at the library to occupy myself.
"Wake them," the wind echoed the water. A splash, then heavy breaths mixed with the sounds of the night behind me. Chills traced up my spine, settling close to the rune in the nape of my neck. The flames flickered with the disturbances, levitating with the movement of the sea as if floating. The flames jolted back and forth in front of me before they burst and their light snuffed out.
A muscular arm wrapped around my neck and started pulling me backwards towards the shore. I kicked around me, startled and out of oxygen from the pressure. The chain slapped against something solid. A man grunted. It was a weak display of force at best, and not really one I could afford in my current condition. Still, I continued to fight against his hold, like a body taking its last, unwilling spasms before dying.
"Come here you two!" Two men hurried to his aid. As sea became sand, they picked me up by the legs and carried me on land. The chains clinked against each other with each step. I gritted my teeth as they rubbed harder against my sore wrists and ankles. Trees started to cover my vision of the night sky. Longer they walked until the canopies thinned and I could see the open sky again. At that point, I was sure, I was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen and pain. The exhaustion from staying alive so long in the freezing sea, the lack of food and water - it all came to me. Hit me like a boulder as they dumped me back into my cell without any of it.
"Don't fall asleep on us just yet, girl," a male voice said. It wasn't one of the one that had carried me, but the voice was unmistakably familiar. Pushing my eyelids open, I tried to taking in a distorted view of the man before me. He was young, younger than I expected. Dark eyebrows hid a pair of stormy blue eyes unusual for his region. I cracked a humorless smile.
"They got you too, Corbin. Traitor boy." He jerked up. Surprise, then disgust filed his face as he recognized me. He pulled my head forth, and found the rune itched into my neck.
"Grounds forbid."
"I remember a boy who was not afraid," I whispered.
"I remember the monster," he said, quickly, locking the cell door between us. "And that she's supposed to be dead."
"Why don't you give me a blanket and some soup? We may discuss the stories like we used to."
"You're dead to me. Vanya, you know what you did. You deserved your fate. I won't apologize."
"That's cruel, Corbin. I did what I was told. A request and a reward. You used to believe-"
"Stop with that!" He burst. "No more gods and disillusionments. The old gods are gone. There are no more gods, and no more saviors for those left behind."
My teeth clicked painfully against each other and shivers traced all across my body. I knew I didn't have long left in this vessel.
"I want to experience the end of the prosecution of people like me. Are you sure there are no soup left?"
"Yes," he said, and walked away. I sunk back down to the ground and huddled up in a corner. I liked this body, truth be told. Found its looks more useful than I'd first anticipated, not to forget, nostalgic. It was closer to how I'd once looked than most of the bodies I'd occupied. Ashy blond hair curled down my back, sun-freckled skin, and a constant ache of- I didn't really know the ailments of this body, hadn't inhabited it long enough to learn a word for it. Regardless, the previous soul trashed and screamed from somewhere deep inside me where I'd chained it up against some invisible wall. It experiencing the same coldness that settled over my own flesh and nerves, and it knew.
Death took my fingers and toes first, then my muscles and at the brink of dawn, my heart.
I dance across the landscape, free as light. No chains held me. Well... No chains had held me. My soul pushed against an invisible net as I was forced to gaze back onto the land far below me. I was slowing down, struggling to push on and get to the place I'd planned. White flames popped up across the landscape, dotting the mosaic of farming fields and rivers. I was descending much faster than I had anticipated. I had to pick soon, I realized, before I touched the ground and returned to the Elements. They'd wanted me back for a while.
Every escape I completed made them crave me a little bit more, tighten their pull on me as I floated. But I wasn't ready to let go just yet. I'd decided upon a man in the nearby village. Strong, stout, alone, but wealthy enough to get me to the Fever City without too many problems. Maybe he'd even live after I left him for another body. But it was too far away now, I too close to the ground.
I analysed the flames in the landscape below me. A handful rested around the lake and rivers of the province while others moved steadily across fields of wheat or apples. Water usually meant they could swim. Any could be useful as long as I was able to realized their potential. In the end, I settled on a stark flame by the forest, hoping it would be a hunter or a woodsman. Someone strong and agile and persistent. Another flame ran for it as I crushed down into the body, a smokeless fire hissing after me.
the wrongful making of a saint. Four Gods slumber, cursed by the Hero of Men. A girl, convinced she's blessed by the gods, sets out to wake them to save herself and end the prosecution of her people. As myth comes alive, and the gods - one by one - return to the land, Vanya must learn the truth of the gods banishment or pay the price of her newfound powers.
so does there exist any books about new adults dealing with mental illness and finding good ways to live this period of their life (getting a job, meeting new friends, etc.) because like i can't be reading teen stories anymore. they are not relatable for where I am in life and rn I need that dose of optimism YA does amazingly for teens and uni. but adult books being the next step the option is usually murder, divorce or babies - none which are relatable.
I have the romantic agenda by claire kann, but it has a setting I really can't stand.
norwegian disaster movies are fun. despite being somewhat unrealistic and carrying the plot armor of a family movie. but those are the types of movies that also makes me realize having four different semesters of geology classes paid off.
✅ list one or two favorite lines you’ve written and explain why they’re your favorite
📚 do you ever read similar works while writing, or do you intentionally not read them?
🦉 give yourself a piece of writing advice
✅ "Now, looking at me, what would they see? A mad woman? A girl in league with the devil? A ghost staring back?"
and
"The way my people prayed to God, he conversed with the beings around him; listened to their intel, their stories, their warnings. Saw their injuries, knew their names, cut their losses and planted new seeds. I only looked up and begged the world would make sense while he was here making meaning."
BTF is not a project with much purple prose, so picking stricly 'a line or two' was difficult without context. I picked two of my favorite shorter passages of character introspection. I love both these because they a) speak to her worldview and culture, but also b) where she find herself within these cultural views and keep comparing herself to others to identify herself. I also think both of these hint to some modern themes despite being a older story setting-wise.
📚 I try to avoid works I think have similar themes. For example, for my viking era-inspired projects, I've avoided fiction set to the same era until my first draft is done. However, being as chaotic as I am, I also may look at similar works to see how they did something and what I liked\disliked about it. I'm still in my early stages of learning to write a book so I need examples as much as hours with the keyboard to improve.
🦉 Focus on writing consistently no matter how slow the progress is. And don't give yourself any reason to compare to other people's progress - it is going to ruin your self-confidence.
This year's resolution was to get better at writing, and ideally finish a project. I originally set out with my sea-inspired viking age wip, but soon changed my focus to a brand new idea based in forests and storytelling. It was the idea I've spent the most time developing this year.
To do so, I also began reading about writing. I needed to learn about the technical aspects that so far eluded me.
🤍 I read “Romancing the Beat” by Gwen Hayes [specifically about romance plots]
🤍 I completed the Writers Conservatory course, “Magical echoes: world building that supports character arc” by Rebecca Ross
🤍 I read “Structuring your novel” by K. M. Wayland ⭐
🤍 I read “Writing arcetypal character arcs” by K. M. Wayland
🤍 I completed the Writers Conservatory course, “Finding your unique voice: writing as only you can” by Sabaa Tahir [on voice]
🤍 I read “Story Genius” by Lisa Cron [build the internal world of the narrator to bring meaning to the external plot]
🤍 I discovered the Save the Cat! Beat sheet (it's now how I outline all my works) ⭐
🤍 I read “Make a Scene” by Jordan Rosenfeld ⭐⭐ [how to structure different types of scenes]
🤍 I got better at using Scrivener (it's fun)
🤍 I am currently working through the exercises in, “Steering the Craft” by Ursula Le Guin
My projects aren't done, but the way I plan and look at them is forever changed. I am definitively a plotter, and working in a foreign language, I need to overkill what I read for it to get into my head. I've also begun incorporating techniques and tools into my works — which is what takes the most time. Learning to use them in action. It's a slow process, but I love it.
I've also begun reading (and watching movies/shows) more as a writer to observe how other people use the techniques I am trying to level up in.
Next year, I hope to explore other aspects of the writing craft, continue to write, and get the chance to do the Writer's Conservatory course on revision with Rachel Griffin. (I adore learning from some of my favorite authors. The preciousness of Adrienne Young making WC and bringing women's voices to the center is not taken for granted. I get to learn from the authors that have changed my life with their writings!)
