January 18, 2012

Still malcontented

Wow. I don't believe it. Two days in a row. Does this mean I qualify as a writer? Hmmm. I doubt it. A writer is someone who publishes their work, right? Wait a minute... doesn't this count?

My age is showing, I fear. When I think publishing, I think books. I love books. I have a ton of books. I love the smell of the musty binding, the feel of the scratchy paper. I love my disheveled paperbacks that I inevitably drop in the bathwater. I love that I don't have enough room to display them all. I love that they are dog-eared, marked up, old friends.

What do I read? Oh, I can't tell you that, I'm way too embarrassed to admit my current addiction runs along the lines of trashy paranormal romances. I'm not a very sophisticated reader. When I'm not reading articles on quality assurance in for-profit higher education, I'm reading Kresley Cole, Mary Janice Davidson, Laurell K. Hamilton, Rachel Caine, and Charlaine Harris. Yes, I am a True Blood addict. And yes, I am single. How did you know?

What do you like to read?