Whatcha Readin'?

I love to read. Yeah, I know, that's not surprising. I am an author after all. I don't think you'll ever meet an author who wasn't first in love with the written word that carried them on a wonderful journey.

A true reader talks about memorable characters like old friends who might drop in for tea. .. Can describe story settings as if they've lived in that place for years ... And will happily explain the reasons why a favorite tomb has a place of honor on their "keeper" shelf. A reader caught up in a good read will burn dinner, pray the soccer game being played in 40 degree fog goes into overtime, agree to clean the bathrooms for a month or give up chocolate if they could just have another 15 minutes to finish the book. (Okay, maybe I went too far with the chocolate ... but you get the idea.)

I have always claimed I'd read any genre except horror (but I've even done that for the right story). But you know what? I discovered something this week. I don't enjoy romantic comedies. I know, right? What the heck's wrong with me?

There are awesome authors like Janet Evanovich and Jennifer Crusie. Kristan Higgins and Lori Avacato. And more. Wonderful authors who write stories that readers looooove.

And I wanted to be one of them. Sometimes I just would like to want to sink into the zany angst of a quirky heroine. To laugh out loud to the bad luck that just continues to snowball into impossible situations. And I try. I pick up a book my friends have just gushed over, ready to fall headlong into a story that takes me away from the stress of my life. But it doesn't happen. I plod through the pages waiting for the good part that never seems to arrive. I skip pages wondering what I'm missing. I'm not sure why the slapstick scenes that are cute and engaging on the movie screen don't translate on the page for me, but they just don't.

And then, like a beacon in the fog of discontent I realized ... it's not the writing or the story ... it's me. Try as I might these stories will never hold my attention. I was reading them thinking I was missing something or to break the spell of science fiction and paranormal stories that seem to overflow my nightstand.

I know, this is such a "well, dur, Nina" situation. But it's taken me twenty-some-odd years as an adult to figure this out. Life is just to darn short to spend time on books that don't carry me away or make me yearn to carve out some reading time.

Writing a book is hard. Writing it well ... even harder. Authors' stories should be read by those who can appreciate them, whatever the genre. As for me, I'm off to check out Jessica Andersen's final installment in her paranormal Nightkeeper series ... Rabbit's been calling my name for a couple of weeks now.

And what about you? Any genres you truly enjoy? Any you've discovered that just don't do it for you? I'd love to hear about it. Because you know me, I'm curious like that.