Confessions of a Book Addict

I really shouldn’t indulge in reading while I’m writing. There, I said it. The taboo of authors everywhere. Not reading books? Blasphemy! How dare I?

Okay, okay. I think it’s pretty clear I love books. That’s exactly the problem. Once I pop, I can’t stop, and I’m on day three of a book binge because I discovered one-click roulette. So, instead of working on Unawakened like a good author, I’ve been reading books.

Lots of books. An obscene number of books. Books are my crack and I’ve been snorting the stash. There, I said it.

This is a serious problem. Once I start a binge, I’m out for at least three days, reading books. Three days. Three days I should have been working on Unawakened, I have been reading books. (And buying books. Did I mention this part? I’m so screwed. I bought so many books. I can’t buy any more books. I probably can’t buy any more books until freaking May. I’m a terrible person.)

Yeah. I’m a book addict, and I typically do not indulge in book binges while I’m in the middle of writing and editing a novel.

Tomorrow, I have to put my book crack away and work. I read. All day. The entire day is gone, and a book ate it. A book sucked away my willpower and forced me–yes, yes, at book point!–to be its little bitch.

So glorious.

So wonderful.

I love you, books. I’m your bitch.

Love, Me.


A Book Addict.

Oh crap, oh crap, I’ve lost three days of work on Unawakened because I was reading books… fifteen books over three days. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m so, so sorry, and I’m a terrible person. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

But the books…

Tomorrow, I’ll write. The books will have to wait. I’m not sure I can do this.

Send help. An intervention or a gift certificate to Amazon for Christmas. Really, either will do…

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