I remember when I used to read a lot. When the summers were too hot and there was nothing better to do at my cousins’ house, I’d immerse myself deeply into a book to escape. Back then, I never racked up my library fines. I was the perfect role model to those librarians. They’d whisper amongst themselves about how many books I’ve read that summer, or how nice it is to see someone reading so much. (I only learned of this from my younger sister’s friends whose ears were too eager to pick up bits of gossip.)
Then, I moved. The library was not nearly as accessible. The building was unfamiliar and did not carry the same warmth and fondness as did the one that was a couple of towns away.
Not a little while after, I started high school. It wasn’t that I was suddenly “too cool” to read. It was quite the opposite, in fact. My high school is compromised of the top geeks in each town sent to this “special” school to stew in more geekiness, gawkiness, and awkwardness. It was the work that did me in. How could I possibly find time to relax when I didn’t even have the time to finish all my homework? How was there time to read when I had to read textbooks and boring books for lit class? While I ended up transitioning very well, I left behind – as if it were a childish middle school habit – my love of reading. I did very well in my classes, made new friends, and enjoyed my new atmosphere. While I thought of reading every now and then, I never dived back in…
My turning point had to be last year, when I started writing again (one of my passions that had also been dumped along side the tacky things I used to do in middle school… not that writing is a tacky activity – though my writing probably was). I forgot how much I loved to play with words, taking them into my hands as if they were clay and molding something magnificent out of it. I forgot how much my head could spin while I was in the middle of the novel, left distracted during everything I did as my thoughts would revert back to the protagonist of the tale. Creative writing class did that to me. My internship at Scholastic, most of all, was like a slap in the face.
This is what I should be doing. Reading and writing and even more reading.
It seemed such a long time ago that I was able to read a hundred books during a summer. It was a personal goal of mine that I ended up surpassing. It seemed easy back then… but now, the task seems monumental. But I know that I can do it.
The Challenge: Read 100 Books by the end of 2010
- Books can be any genre: non-fiction, fiction, romance, young-adult, action, etc.
- Novel-length… AKA no picture books or easy reader books.
- No repeats. If read in the past, it cannot be read again.
- Must be read in entirety (quite obvious).
My best friend, Loreal, has decided to take on the challenge along with me. Sunny has also agreed to do it, but since she’s not an avid reader, she settled for a challenge of 50. I’d love to have other people join us in the challenge. My books will be posted here, along with other participants and links to their lists.
Comment and let me know if you’re interested and where I can find your list of 100 in 2010!