Going on a Date

I’m not so much a voracious reader as I am a serial romancer.

The chapters of a book are like dates for me. If they’re pleasant I want more dates, if they’re unpleasant… Well, unless we had enough good dates to form a relationship a couple bad ones are going to end our time together, sweet novella. I have other books trying to get on my dance card and I’m not wasting my valuable date time not enjoying myself.

It’s not me. It’s you.

A friend and I had a discussion about putting a book down recently. He was struggling through an unpleasant read but didn’t want to stop because HE HAD NEVER STOPPED BEFORE. He had never put a book aside because it was lousy or unreadable, or just not an enjoyable read for him. Not ever.

That astounded me and I asked around to see if others of my readery friends were more like him or more like me. Turns out the large majority of my anecdotal and totally not scientific sample were like him. For most of those folk the primary reasons they finished bad books were;

  1. They didn’t want to “waste” the time they had already invested in the book.
  2. They anticipated value in the act of finishing the book.
  3. They felt obligated to finish.

Do those look familiar? They should. They’re the most common tropes used for “why X stays in the worthless relationship”.

  1. I’d have to start over from scratch with somebody new.
  2. Once I’ve finished with them all of this current unpleasantness will be worth it.
  3. We’ve been together so long.

So I’m not the only one who is looking at stories as a relationship, I’m just one of the few who is willing to call one off when it’s a bad one.

What sort of literary ‘dater’ are you?

[End of regular post. Rambly stuff below.]

Continue reading “Going on a Date”


It started with socks

A few days ago there was a wonderful post about socks at Tears Run South. Well, not so much about the socks themselves as how the author is particular about mismatching them. The commentary filled up with all of these delightful submissions from readers with their own peccadillos. Today, Ellen over at ellenbest24 continued the theme with her own post.

In the grand bloggery tradition of jumping on a neat idea, I figured I’d do one of my own.

I hold on to the bed when I go to sleep. Specifically, I must have a hand on the edge of the bed or I won’t fall asleep. It all started when I was just a wee laddie sleeping on the top bunk in the room I shared with my older brother. You see, me and he had busted the bed rail during a full-out rumpus and propped it back in place to hide the crime. We even got away with it for a few weeks.

A few weeks of terror! Every night when I went to bed I knew that there was absolutely nothing to save me from a five foot somnolent drop to my death. Out of self preservation I slept as far away from the drop of doom as possible, hugging up against the opposite rail and holding on to the edge of the mattress so I knew I was safe.

Now decades later, as a (passably) mature adult, you will still find me attached to the edge of the bed.

What fun oddities do you have?