My return to freedom (aka me returning from the dead)
I haven't written in a long time, I know I'm rusty as heeeeeeeeck-
Yes, hi, nǐ hǎo! Tis I, Jabberwocky, nincompoop, chapping Booksy.
Where have I been? Well, in the seventh level of Hades having Tea with Mindy McGinnis amongst other authors such as Tiffany D. Jackson and the wonderful Marissa Meyer (she disappointed me, it counts).
And where will I concoct an excuse for being overtly absent of any bookish platform whatsoever and basically pooping on any chance of being a successful being? Well, I may need to take another trip to the netherworld and see if Persephone needs someone to brew tea with.
So, I have come in apology with another mildly useless, hopefully, entertaining How-To Guide. This one concentrated on the idea of braving The Next Read. Here it is, unicorns and bloody pirates! *random dramatic music out of nowhere*
How To Choose Your Next Read (not really though-)
That's the thing, you don't. It chooses you. But I'll still try to make myself useful and benevolent, by listing three must-do things when choosing a new wonderful book to either love or hate to death (if you must know, I still don't know what to read myself, and I am making this in hopes of finding a new story. Taking my advice is boring, y'all)
Firstly, whoever has the privilege of knowing exactly what to read, when to read it, and why to read it- please go, your perfection is blurring my senses, and it is painful. This right here is for beings of lower patience meter and higher aptitude for throwing books through windows out of petty frustration (it wasn't me). I know for a fact that choosing a book takes more time than reading the book itself, and that in and of itself is a sacrifice that we (me) must do every. single. time. I. have. to. search. for. a. new. book. Marvelous, right? Right. I've found it incredibly pointless and futile turning towards Google and 'if you like this book you may like this book' searches, because frankly, when someone says (the internet, bookish bloggers are always wonderfully right (again, not me)) that I would like a book if I've read a wholly different one, my brain automatically chooses to reject it. Yes, I am indeed speaking about a certain site's recommendation (if you know, then I'm so sorry you've gone through that too). So what do I personally do? I scream at the internet for being stupid and annoying and find gems such as WhatShouldIReadNext.com, get frustrated once again because I don't even understand myself, and we jump to the next line of action.
The following step goes as said. I download or buy any and every book that sounds even the slightest bit appealing (even though I always read, like, half the synopsis and end up regretting it halfway), stare at my e-book or Amazon delivery package KNOWING the pain and suffering that I must endure in search of the ONE and commence the part I like to call Readingthefirstpageandseeingifit'sworthit. Easy so far, right? Yep, you're so right. But sometimes that doesn't work, so before that (I know I'm doing it backward, I forgot) I read the first sentence. The opening statement, the killing line that every book should create and carve into perfection.
"I snorted." (not drugs, by the way) [expert from a book that shall never see the light of day]
If it's as ideal and flawless as the one up above, I'm sold. I'm in. My soul has been drenched in pleasure and giddiness. I probably even squeal a bit. You get it? Okay. So this is it, I mentally yell at myself. The moment I've been waiting for, for the past three days. I've been blessed- no, I've been given a miracle.
Until you read the first 10 pages, and it all was for naught because the phrases 'not like other girls' and 'I would die for you, but I just met you' destroy that portion of joy that had inhibited your bucketless heart just a few minutes prior.
#3. Victory (or not)
Then we have the last tip/step/ poor advice, whatever fits best. Start all over again. At this point, you probably are this close to giving up, the world seems bleak and tasteless, the sun has lost its fiery dungeon burning ferocity, and frankly, this is the turning table in the whole scheme of things. Why? Because your expectations have probably gone to the toilet and beyond. At this point, I'm (notice how I'm switching to first-person because I have no idea if y'all do the same) below zero and ready to read anything that presents itself upon my porch and-
I found it. We finally found it- You found the book! The book has been waiting beside other hyped books for so long, a dusty imprint serves as a reminder of all the lives it has outlived. You maybe probably stroke its paragraphs, perhaps sniff its words and metaphors like Kool-Aid, and maybe, just maybe... it ends up being the perfect book.
So what's the key to unlocking the door for your next read? Simple! Give up and submerge yourself in bookish misery.
Oh lordy, that was intense! Wait, was it? It's difficult for me to notice these days. Pandemic, earthquakes, mosquito bites- at this point, everything seems mild.
You know what isn't mild? The comments down below! (smirks in 'so smooth even though it doesn't make sense') Feel wholly free and comfortable to share tips on how to actually find your future read because I need it.
The day I actually find what I want to read from the get-go, is the day a certain fictional man jumps out of a certain book and marries me.
So like, tomorrow, right?
Oh, that's so right.😉