听
鈥�I have to write a column.鈥澨�
My family probably doesn鈥檛 even hear me anymore. It鈥檚 a fairly common utterance from my lips, but as I went on holiday last week it was the only work-related thing I could achieve while away from the house with the aid of my ever-present laptop. What an evil invention! Thanks for nothing, Bill Moggridge.
As I sat on the beach, I contemplated what I was going to write about. Over and over and over again. For a couple days I decidedly gave myself permission to put writing on hold... but I was still writing in my head. I would start and then abandon one thought after another. Some were serious, some light-hearted, some made hefty points, and after a bout of unwarranted lippy backchat from my kids (because I wouldn鈥檛 allow them to have a freezie AND an ice cream cone 鈥撎齟vidently I鈥檓 a MONSTER), some were most definitely unsuitable for print.听
So I ruminated some more and distracted myself with one of several books I brought with me on the trip.听
These were actual novels. For the first time in many years, I packed something other than what many would qualify as 鈥渟elf-help鈥� books or guides to parenting a spirited/emotional/challenging/gifted child.听
Last January I was thrilled to be invited to join my first-ever book club. I had always thought the idea to be fun 鈥� read a book and discuss it over wine with a bunch of girlfriends? Sure, sign me up! But no one ever did. Until now. I was thrilled.
Since its inception, I have missed every single book club meeting, because I never managed to get through them before the deadline. I did manage to finish one book, about a week after the group met to discuss it 鈥� and for that I was intensely proud of myself.听
I used to be a voracious reader 鈥� devouring books faster than frat boys could empty a keg on a hot long weekend. I had commitment and perseverance. Now, I have children. I chose to believe that, because of this, I was no longer able to do the thing I loved to do so much. But for all intents and purposes, it鈥檚 probably not true.听
After missing four meetings, my girlfriends told me to come to the book club meetings anyway 鈥� regardless of whether or not I had completed the assignment. But that just seemed like crazy talk. How embarrassing that a writer can鈥檛 wade through 400-odd pages with more than a month鈥檚 notice?
So, when I received the news that we wouldn鈥檛 be meeting again until September, I was ecstatic 鈥� certainly I could complete ONE book before school started. I had almost 10 weeks.
Turns out two were selected. One, a New York Times bestseller that was pithy and light, if not refreshing and insightful, called The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion; the second, North Of Normal by Cea Sunrise Person, was definitely more gritty and unsettling 鈥� yet a great read.听
And I鈥檓 happy to report that I, between ignoring my children (thankfully they can swim!), sipping cider and munching over-priced island treats, got through both of them in record time. Not only will I be able to attend September鈥檚 book club with my head held high, I鈥檓 committed to reading every other book selected this year 鈥撎齜efore the meeting.听
