I had two minor epiphanies last night, neither of which is probably particularly revelatory to anyone else.
One is that Twitter just doesn’t work as my only place to play with my friends on the Internet. It’s loads of fun, full of smart, witty, kind people. But many of them are authors, and it’s their space too; I censor myself there and feel justified in doing so.
How I miss having a place to share my random observations as I read a book. I still use GoodReads a bit, but it’s so hard to get a book conversation going now. Maybe I’m being stupidly stubborn not to use it in that manner?
The other is that, after having cleared out my arcs and enjoyed a blessed few days of peace, I’ve been obsessing over not having read enough good books for my Best Of lists, and trying to cram a whole bunch more reading in, in very little time. In other words, I managed to find yet another way to turn reading into homework. Go me.