I might have mentioned once or twice or six hundred times that I love mysteries. I especially love cozy mysteries. I have read and loved mysteries for decades. I love to read cozies. I love to watch cozies. For those unfortunate enough to actually come face to face and talk to me, I can bore the unsuspecting for hours just talking about cozy mysteries (consider yourself warned). My love for cozy mysteries is what sparked a desire to write them. So, here I am. I’m living the dream. I’ve got two books out in print and quite a few more coming out (some in just a few short weeks). As I take a few moments away from a marathon writing weekend to pen this blog, I find myself avoiding social media in case I encounter a tweet or Facebook post that asks the one question I’ve come to dread. What are you reading?
I am avoiding that question like the plague because I am ashamed to admit. I haven’t read much lately. Sure, over the long Memorial Day weekend, I stole a few hours and read the latest Gaslight Mystery by Victoria Thompson. However, that amounted to a few hours (which I thoroughly enjoyed). In all honesty, I haven’t had a lot of time to read. Not to beat a dead horse, but new job/move/new house/unpacking/etc. If I had to bottom-line it, I’d chalk it up to just busy and deadlines. I have a self-imposed rule that I don’t allow myself to read for pleasure while I’m writing unless I hit my daily writing target. I have to earn the right to read. Needless to say, I haven’t earned the right to read for pleasure for quite some time. I feel like the shoemaker’s kid who is surrounded by shoes, but is going barefoot. I’m a mystery lover who doesn’t have time to read. I’ll admit that like an addict who decides to give up their addiction cold turkey, there are times when I get the shakes. I glance at my bookshelf with longing that should be reserved for a lover (or chocolate).There’s something special about holding a book. I love to hold them and crack the spine of a new book. I like the way new books smell. I get a stupid grin on my face at the idea of holding a new cozy <heavy sigh>.
Before you start to feel too sorry for me, I will admit that I haven’t been able to give up cozies completely. I may not be reading anything right now, but thank God above for Britbox and Netflix. Throughout my self-imposed hiatus from reading, I have watched six seasons of Hercule Poirot, two seasons of Vera and a few seasons of Shetland (more than one way to skin a cat or feed an addiction). My To-Be-Read pile is monstrous and at some point I’m expecting the eBook police to cut me off from downloading because I’ve reached the max. However, for now, I keep watching and rewatching and downloading. Sure, I may not be able to answer the question, What Are You Reading, but if you ask what I’m watching, I got that one!