I have never actually sat down and read one of my own books. I’ve gone through them, but never sat down to read one just to read one.
This weekend, my tablet & I had some connectivity issues. Our campground wifi was on the fritz and my signal was practically non-existent. When I opened my tablet Friday night to read a book or two, I realized I hadn’t loaded any new stuff up before we left.
This meant re-reading a selection of true crime books, some fiction novels that I have started but couldn’t stay interested in, or my own stuff. I attempted to read the novels I had started, but not finished… and I just still couldn’t get into them enough to read them.
I broke down and opened up The Dysfunctional Affair.
When you learn about writing, they teach you to write for yourself. This means you write something you would want to read. In theory, I do this, but I had never actually put the theory to the test. Friday, I flew through The Dysfunctional Affair and The Dysfunctional Valentine. Saturday night, it was The Dysfunctional Honeymoon and The Dysfunctional Proposal. It turns out, I entertain the heck out of myself. At times, I even giggled out loud.
Having said the above, I will admit, it was also very weird to read my own books. I had forgotten most of the stuff in them. As a writer, I feel I should remember those tiny little details, but there was a lot that seemed brand new to me (I couldn’t remember how Valentine ended and I’m only 1/2 of the way through Proposal and I don’t remember who the bad guy is or why).
It has also motivated me to write. Mostly to write a Dysfunctional Chronicle, but writing is writing. Maybe I should read some of my other books when I’m feeling the need to be motivated to write a particular series.