I am not Catholic, but if I could and knew how, I would crawl into a confessional and admit my guilt.

Sadly, my confession will firmly place the blame on another person.  One I don’t know, but will blame anyways for my inability to accomplish anything important yesterday and today.

The first half of my confession is to admit that I am a hopeless book addict.  Over the years, I have gotten much better, and can actually read a book over an entire month.  I hate to do that, as  I love sitting down with the characters and the story and gorging myself on their lives.  However, Real Life usually gets in the way and I have to read a book in bite size pieces and be content with a page or two at a time. 

A few days ago, I finished Graceling.  Kristin Cashore’s debut novel was such a delight that I couldn’t stop reading until I devoured the entire thing in less than a half a day–with interruptions.  Oh, the dreaded interruptions.

Which leads me to the second half of my confession.  Last night, I cracked open the companion book to Graceling.  Fire was just as riveting and amazing and heartfelt as the first.

I read myself to sleep and (don’t hate me, dear fam) couldn’t wait to rejoin the characters again this morning.  I almost pushed my kids off to school and I’m quite certain DH felt more than a little confused at my rushed peck and absent-minded good-bye as he left the house.  My book was waiting.


I blame Ms. Cashore.  Her charge is writing a great book.  I hope someday to write lyrical tales that make people want to kick their family out of the house, curl up with a blanket, a cup of hot coffee and live in a land of my make-believe. 

If I ever succeed in doing this, I will gladly take the blame for loyal readers hurriedly sending their families away and coveting hours of solitude where they get absolutely nothing done.  I would love nothing more than to learn that someone cared enough about my characters to forget the laundry in the wash machine.  It would make me giddy to envision a reader pulling her nose out of my book, blinking into the waning light and realizing with a rush of excitement and disappointment that an entire day had magically slipped away.

Kudos to Kristin Cashore for giving me one spell-binding day in which the laundry is unwashed, the dishes piled in the sink and dinner a slap dash of whatever there is in the house.  I hope to pull myself together and pull off the illusion that I did, indeed, accomplish something before DH gets home.  Otherwise, he may not feel so inclined to let me purchase her next book.

And that would be a tragedy.

6 responses to “Confession

  1. These books have been on my wishlist for a while – hoping Santa got the memo 🙂

    It would most certainly be an amazing accomplishment to absorb the reader from their world into ours. That is truly “The Dream”, isn’t it?

    • Jemi,

      Definitely the writer’s dream. However, I am as much of a sucker for reading them. I do so love a good book that carries me away and I whole heartedly admit that these two did.

      Now I must rejoin the real world…

  2. Oh I know the feeling. The power of a good book to transport us into another world is amazing and wonderful and awesome– oops, lots of description, but you get the idea. 🙂

    I think I will find these books for myself. They sound great!

  3. Oh I so need to get this book for Christmas…I’ve read trilogies in a weekend and am completely quilty of getting caught up in fantastic characters! Of course this was pre-baby bearz but I look forward to a great read..thanks!

    • Charlie, that’s where the guilt comes in. When the family sits and stares at you or tugs on your sleeve and you don’t even realize it because the characters are tugging too!

      While these books are for teens, there is plenty of romance, intrigue and adult interest. The female MC’s are not whiners–a big bonus in my mind.

      Obviously I greatly enjoyed them.

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