Showing posts with label crime fiction. Show all posts
...slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it.'
~ William Styron, interview, Writers at Work, 1958
Sometimes, though, you lose your book mojo and feel like you live several lives just opening the cover let alone trying to read a complete novel. I think that's what happened to me. I lost my romance novel mojo. For most of May I was picking books up, taking them home and reading them without really getting anything out of them. As a result I haven't posted a review to our library website all month. Ack. That's not an indictment on the authors, either, it's more about my headspace. Probably the whole birthday-ambivalence thing. For someone who produces 2 romance newsletters a month, losing your mojo is a big bucket of wtfery, right there. It hasn't quite come back, but I can feel a tingle. A possible resurge. A mojo-less Tosca has to be ignored, though, because books have to be read, reviews have to be written and newsletters have to be sent out. Were those moods just hot flashes? At 35 I'd hope not but who really knows. Let's not call them hot flashes. Let's call them 'intense, short, tropical vacations' instead. Makes me feel better. As Kalani tells me, 'To-may-to, po-tah-to.'
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