i reread books a lot. sometimes i go months reading more "old" books than "new" ones. when i was younger, i did not believe in rereading books. i was irrationally against the entire concept and would argue till i was blue in the face about how pointless it was to read something when you already knew what was going to happen. now i could go on about how amazing it is to curl up with characters that you already know and love and to go over your favorite parts, reading something new and learning something more from them every time, but that's not what i came here to say. i have certain books for certain moods, and when i get into a too-stressed-to-function mood -when my mind stops working because it's so overwhelmed and my body's go to reaction for everything is panic and tears - i pick up stephenie meyer. don't ask me why. right now, i'm rereading the host because, not only will i finish it faster than the twilight saga, but i am also being bombarded with images and clips of the movie version which is coming out soon.
maybe it's because of what i've been reading lately, but in this read i am not "learning something new" from the story, instead i find myself editing every sentence of the book. while still enjoying the story, i am thinking that an entire paragraph could have been shortened into a sentence, that we, as readers, are not stupid and can connect some dots on our own, and that that was definitely the wrong word choice. i semi-recently finished another book that i could (and have) rant about for hours (and maybe i will here one of these days) that needed some major editing. there were plot holes that i would have been falling through left and right if the language was not so awkward that it kept me from reading myself into the story. there were inconsistencies and mind numbing repetition and nowhere near enough research done into the time period that the story was written in. actually, forget research, these were just common sense things. i found myself editing the book as i went along, more interested in fixing the promising premise than reading the thing. then, i read (or started. i kinda put it down for a bit) a story that was also poorly written. aside from spelling and grammar errors (which you all know bug me to no end), there was this feeling that the author was trying so hard to be impressive. and nothing is less attractive than someone trying too hard. it was self-important and wannabe mystical and philosophical and just really not engaging. but i have plans to finish it. and then, of course, i've been receiving such great writing from my students.
so maybe after those my mind is just in a state where it is ready to look for errors? maybe it's gotten used to making prose tighter and stories better and conflict more conflicty? i hope so, and i hope it lasts through the end of the host and the end pf this current bout of stress and procrastination. if i can be in this mindset while tackling my own story, there's no telling what i could do with it. i'd be elated to be half as picky. here's to hoping this pretentious editor in me sticks around for a bit.
*Every Time I Die - Guitarred and Feathered