Once was the time when I read every book (almost) I could get my hands on, as long as it took place somewhere else or some-when else. I read about dragons, space travel, mind reading, time travel, you name it, for the most part. There was very seldom when I didn't have a book open; I even had to restrict myself and make myself finish a book before I started another, and further, to wait until the next day before starting another book. It gave me a little time to digest one story before starting another one.
Being the Libran that I am, I loved books that were a series, but I hated getting the second of a series (or whichever) and not being able to find the others, so I refused to buy a book that was part of a series unless I could get all of them. That didn't apply to those books given to me, so I ultimately ended up with some of those odd books. Needless to say, I read them anyway, frustrating though it was.
When we moved out here, I had to give up my collection of books - we simply couldn't move them, and even if I'd managed to be able to bring them out here initially, at some point during the multiple times we've moved since, I'm certain that my collection would have had to be sacrificed somewhere along the line.
Since then, I've accumulated quite a few books; sadly, few of them are the kind I like - the long story that covers several books - and finding any remnants of any of my old collection is impossible. Another obstruction is the fact that I can't just go to a book store; I'm doing good to go through the book stands in Walmart or Fred Meyers or some other big store, if there's time. Another rather frustrating thing about my books is that they are mostly in boxes stashed either in the top of the woodshed or upstairs stuffed in a corner buried under other boxes or shoes or clothes or whatever else it stuffed up there. Space is at an extreme premium here in this little cabin in the middle of nowhere.
To satisfy my desire to read, I have, from time to time, jotted down a story. While I was working on the military base (before we moved out here), we were required to take three breaks during every work day. They were fairly boring breaks, though not really all that long - an hour all together. To fill the time, not long enough to enjoy a good read, I started writing a story, long hand, in a loose-leaf notebook. This notebook is the one book that came with me when I moved out here. This notebook was unfortunately one sacrifice because of one of our moves. Some items had to be left behind, and when I finally got the chance to retrieve the duffle, the notebook was gone. Sigh
Several years later, I decided to start another story in another notebook. The kids were both done with school and there was all this paper left over. One day, my son comes home with this little laptop computer. I'd never seen one before. It was really rather cool. He taught me how to use it and he taught me some things about Word, other things I learned along the way with occasional help from my son when he was home. Since then, I have worn out that poor little computer. My second PC started getting a hiccup in the music program and my son said it might be some kind of internal problem. So, since I've managed to write over twenty stories which I didn't want to lose, I now have my third computer, a MAC.
Yes, I said over twenty stories. They are all lengths and I've talked about them before in this blog. I have discovered the new way to read. I have satisfied my desire to read new books. If I can't go to a bookstore, I can create my own books. I can do it, and you know what, I love doing it. The new stories that evolve on my computer screen don't have a book trailer, they don't have any advertising yet, they don't even have a rumor friends can pass on. You can't get much newer than that.