So, it's my birthday. 45. And my birthday present to myself is more reading. I haven't read something just because I wanted to in way too long. I'm now determined to get in at least twelve books before my next birthday. That's a really pathetic goal. When I was young and foolish, I could read a novel every two days.
We didn't have social media in those days.
I'm also undertaking a challenge. Back in 2015, Sunili Govinnage kind of kicked off a movement to challenge people's reading habits: For a year, don't read anything by white cis- males. I'm proud to say that I only felt patriarchy-induced butthurt about that for a few minutes. I didn't immediately undertake to do it, though.
Now I am. With a few exceptions.
- I write chidlren's books, and I'm in the process of learning the field. I will have to read some white guys in pursuit of my education.
- Similarly, non-fiction read as research for my writing is exempted. But NF isn't really in the spirit of the challenge anyway.
- When the new Dresden Files novel comes out, I'm reading that. I'm sorry, everybody. I have my weaknesses.
I'm going to start my year by reading Tracked, by Jenny Martin. I've had it since it was published, and haven't read it yet. (I'm a bad writer-friend.)